I'm No Angel
by Gone2Far
Summary: Steve takes a walk on the wild side. The results may prove fatal.
1. Drowning

I'm No Angel

Chapter 1

 **Hi again. Nope, haven't croaked or run off with the cabana boy. RL had taken precedence as both husband and laptop needed repair. Haven't abandoned Cujo V either. That story will be completed as soon as my sense of humor has recovered as well. In the meantime, here is a story that depicts Steve in a less than favorable light. You may not agree with this view of our hero but I hope you'll read it anyway. Inspiration for this was provided by the late Greg Allman's song '** _ **I'm No Angel',**_ **(especially the line about the tattoo).**

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 **Drowning**

Sometimes it was a tidal wave; a wall of water that crashed over his head to tumble him into darkness. There was no way to hold it back.

He'd tried.

And, despite the hands that reached out to keep him from being swept away, they couldn't keep him from the abyss of his own dark thoughts.

He'd struggle against its force. He'd hold his breath for as long as he could but it was never long enough.

Then he drowned.

Drowned in the violence of which human beings are capable. Drowned by monsters who saw purity then were compelled to destroy it. Drowned in the blood of the innocent.

Drowned by the very relentlessness of evil.

Though most of this mayhem was deliberate, sometimes it could be merely random; a wrong-place-wrong-time happenstance. A stray bullet or speeding vehicle leaving a void no other could fill. And in their wakes those who remained among the living could only scream out their pain.

He'd come to recognize the futility of protecting those who may have been doomed from the moment they drew their first breaths. Despite his and his team's efforts, people were still going to be murdered, maimed, or damaged irreversibly. There seemed no way to fight it.

Eventually, despite all his training and skills, the dark waters would close around him and it was time to go.

That's when the word 'classified' came in handy.

He'd smile, lie to friends who knew there could be no questions, sling his duffle over his shoulder, and stride out the door.

…

The day is bright and the air cool and crisp. Like celestial sailing ships, clouds glide between earth and sun, throwing intermittent shadows on what lay below.

The ocean rolled under the pier in relentless surges and ebbs to throw itself against barnacle clad pilings. He felt its power jolting through the wooden planks under his feet then vibrating upward through his body.

'Pacific' meant peaceful but the name is misleading. Though it's the same ocean surrounding the islands of home, the misnamed body of water seemed more ominous from this side of it – its waves more likely to snatch the unwary from casual strolls along the strand.

The menace of its blue depths seemed somehow appropriate. He usually found solace in the sea but right now there's no serenity in it or himself as he gazed out at its agitated expanse.

….

The sun is shining but the wind is cold off the water, prompting her to huddle further into her fleece jacket as she watches from a distance. He stands at the end of the boardwalk, looking out toward the horizon. His head is bare, the hood down on his navy blue windbreaker. She couldn't clearly make out his features but his hair is dark and neatly cropped. Beneath the loose fitting cargo pants and the jacket that flattens against his body with each wind gust, she can tell he's athletically trim. She reminds herself that she's in San Diego, so chances are he's military.

Today is a lazy one for her. Her next job doesn't start until the weekend is over. For now, she's free to wander. People-watching entertains her and it doesn't cost anything; not that she needs to be particularly careful with her funds. The fee she'd been paid for that last job eliminated any worry on that front. Eyes fastened on the lone man at the end of the wooden pier, she sips her cocoa. With the wind and lowered temperature it's too brisk for children to be wandering about. Only those with the most haphazard parenting skills would drag the brats out in this weather.

Most are happy to stay snuggled in their beds at this hour on a Saturday morning; not wander around in what would be mild winter weather in other parts of the world.

For Californians though it's positively frigid. Those hardier souls here this morning are most likely transplants from somewhere else. She smiles at the thought that the natives of 'The Golden State', attired in their usual winter wear of board shorts, parkas and flip-flops would literally be freezing their asses off if they were in Canada at this time of year.

He's moving now. With long, confident strides the lone man walks toward the concession stand a few yards away. At the take-out window she hears him request an espresso; smiling as he does so.

Nice smile.

After paying and dropping a tip into the slotted coffee can beside the window he moved further down the counter to wait for his order. Leaning back against the weathered wood; arms crossed over chest and hips canted so that his weight rests on one leg, he appears relaxed but his eyes are warily evaluating his surroundings.

She recognized it . . . the way one would search for hidden dangers and plan out escape routes. Perhaps there is more to this guy than what's pictured on the outside of the pretty box.

The barista called out to him and he stepped back to the window. As he's handed a steaming cup he thanked her with a nod and brief grin. He stands for a moment, eyes searching the surprisingly crowded area offering seating to patrons of the pier's food vendors.

The Opal Pier is busy today despite the weather. A popular local attraction, its hotel is always booked months in advance. Though she had no previous arrangement, she'd managed to 'finesse' a couple nights lodging from a recent acquaintance – the hotel's reservations manager. Her lodging is only a studio cottage but it's at the very western end of the row of neat little wooden cabins perched over the water. It even has its own deck.

She watched as he craned his neck to look for a vacant seat but, finding none, he shrugged to himself and started to walk away.

"You need a place to sit?" she asked as he came abreast of her table.

He halted and long lashed hazel-blue eyes fastened on her. With brow quirked he asked, "You mind?"

"Not at all. It's pretty crowded today. I'll share." She gestured to the seat on the other side of the small table.

"Thanks." he replied as he set his cup onto the peeling wood and stepped over the attached bench to sit opposite her. He smiled again. It was like a sunrise.

…..

As their day had been crisp and cold, their night was warm and humid. Need entwined with need as bodies writhed, coiling around one another like serpents; skin sliding on sweat-slickened skin; breaths mingling in muffled cries panted into the darkness.

Dawn found them lying half-awake; enjoying the warmth of one another's sated bodies as they lay quietly. The electrical current that had hummed beneath their skins into the long night had finally been switched off. Only a drowsy peace remained.

A bleary glance at a bedside clock signaled an abrupt end to their pleasant languor. Covers were thrown off, discarded clothing located, hasty clean-ups completed and then with one last grin, he was out the door.

Standing at the small bay window of cottage number 6, she watched as he disappeared down the boardwalk and around the corner. Was the swagger a comment on their evening or just the way he moved?

…

Six months later:

Steve sighed and rubbed gritty eyes. He and the team are exhausted. Despite giving it all they had; the kid is still dead. They'd only been able to provide her devastated parents a body to bury.

After an hour of 'persuasion' in the blue room, their suspect had finally confessed and given them directions to her burial site. Lani Holbrook had been found in the Ewa Forest beneath a hollowed out log – her grave marker.

Even though the ten-year-old had been missing for nearly a week; her distraught mother and father had held out hope.

 _Yeah, there's always hope,_ he thought bitterly. His loathing of the platitude actually made him curl his lip as he sat silently contemplating his failure to bring the child home alive.

Over three days and nights his team had been relentless in their search. But, no matter what effort was put forth, no matter how desperately one clung to the belief the victim would be found alive, it had all been for naught. They'd subsequently learned the child had been killed not long after her disappearance. The time between the call from HPD to ask Five-0 for their assistance and the moment the kidnapper had snuffed out her young life had been only a mere two hours.

Though he hadn't said it, Steve had the feeling it was hopeless from the moment Five-0 got the call. Their week had been a series of only half-successful resolutions at most; none of them turning out ideally – none of them without casualties. He'd known it was possibly too late to help Lani as well but, come hell or high water, they'd find the one who'd taken her and make sure they'd never ever touch another child.

For her parents there'd be only unimaginable grief. For the searchers there was, at best, a hollow and inadequate victory. Hawaii has no death penalty. The only solace for anyone is that the perpetrator would never again see the light of day outside a prison.

Lost in his dark musing, Five-0's leader didn't see the one standing at his doorway, keys dangling from fingers and an expectant expression on his stubbled face.

"You coming?" asked Danny.

Steve looked up at the man whose appearance reflected how he himself felt. Red-rimmed eyes and a less than perfect coif testified to exhaustion – both physical and mental.

"We're all half-dead, D. Why don't we put-off the case closed get-together?" _It certainly couldn't be called a celebration_ , he thought. "It's not like we saved anyone anyway."

Totally understanding his partner's frame of mind, Danny replied, "We CANT save everyone. You know that, Steven." The compact detective took a step closer to say in a quiet voice, "But who knows how many more kids would have been killed if we hadn't caught him?" It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as well.

"Yeah, it's just that . . ." Steve's voice trailed off before he shrugged and let out a long exhale."Okay. I guess we shouldn't disappoint the others." Closing his laptop he gathered up his belongings to follow Danny out the door.

The get together at their usual watering hole was glum - more a wake than a celebration of a job well done. Kono drank with purpose; her plan to numb herself then go home and crawl into bed and stay there until the next millennium. Even the thought of her usual routine after a tough case - catching a few waves - didn't appeal to her. This one had kicked her ass . . . and her soul.

Chin felt much the same though he knew he was destined to be his baby cousin's designated driver this evening. He nursed a lone beer for most of the night as he waited for Kono to give-in to her fatigue and call it quits. He had no one to go home to so it was just as well that he stay a while longer. The saying that misery loves company never seemed more appropriate.

Danny sipped lightly because he had to take Charlie to a classmate's birthday party tomorrow. Its attendees would be a herd of kids hyped-up on sugar and like-minded companions. As an added delight, there's a bouncy castle! Being there while hungover would be pure hell.

An additional reason for Five-0's second in command to refrain from getting plowed is that its leader looked like hell before they'd even arrived at the bar. Danny reasoned it may be best to stay sober enough to keep an eye on the idiot.

Lou said, (rather unenthusiastically), that tomorrow he has a date requiring his full, un-hungover, attention. He's supposed to take Renee out to celebrate twenty-two years of wedded bliss so he too had to imbibe on a conservative level. Their anniversary outing was to involve some sort of touristy brunch cruise and then an evening luau at the Hilton. His woman would have words for him if he wasn't fully 'there'. No matter how much he desired the tranquility to be achieved by several shots of Jack Daniels, it wasn't worth the risk of his beloved's wrath.

Steve had no such restrictions. If Catherine was still around, he'd probably cut back on the liquid mood modifier but she wasn't. His 'thing' with Lynn was kind of hit and miss. They'd come to the understanding that theirs was an exclusive relationship but he knew it wasn't a forever one. They hadn't actually talked about a future together but he knew she wasn't 'the one'. He had no desire to risk his heart again. In any case, he was unencumbered for several more days. She'd gone to the mainland for a month-long family visit and wasn't due back for another week. _She must really like her family_ , he'd thought before adding, _Well, at least she_ _has_ _a family._

Danny surreptitiously glanced at his partner throughout the evening. Steve wasn't usually a heavy drinker, certainly not the hard stuff, but he'd already put away several shots and was working on another. He and Kono, courtesy of Mr. Cuervo, seemed on their way to drinking one another under the table. The two on the team who are most alike also seem to be seeking respite from their demons at the same rate and speed. _At least neither of the idiots will be behind the wheel tonight,_ thought both Chin and Danny.

As Steve tilted the shot glass back to take a swallow, his eyes suddenly became round. Danny looked in the direction to which he'd been reacting. A tall woman with short dark hair was seating herself at a table set against the opposite wall. She smiled up at the waitress who'd immediately appeared to take her drink order.

Danny turned back to Steve who'd set down his glass to gaze blearily at the newcomer.

"Steve?" he asked as his partner continued to stare at the woman on the other side of the room. The restaurant's lounge was becoming crowded; the noise level rising accordingly. Perhaps he hadn't heard him?

"Steve?" repeated Danny. Again no response. He waved a hand in front of his partner's face to get his attention. "Earth to Steve." he sing-songed.

"Huh?" asked Five-0's leader as he averted his gaze from the mystery woman to fasten glazed eyes on the man who is now annoyingly snapping fingers in his face.

Finally having succeeded in getting his partner's attention, Danny asked, "You see someone you know?"

Blowing off the question with a shrug Steve replied, "No, umm, just someone who looks sort of familiar. It's not them. Now one I know."

Though unconvinced, Danny nodded.

"Hey boss!" slurred Kono who'd noted her leader's distraction as well, "Maybe you should go introduce yourself. She's hot! You should hit that."

Chin frowned at her words. Maybe it's time to haul her ass home. His cousin could get a little rowdy when she'd been drinking. He'd certainly pulled her out of less favorable situations when she was younger.

Steve only snorted a response and picked up his glass again.

The Hawaiian woman apparently wasn't done yet. "You know that 'thing' you have with Lynn?" (she'd set down her own shot glass to actually make air quotes), "It isn't going anywhere, brah. We can all see that you're not that into her."

"I like Lynn!" Five-0's leader protested - perhaps a bit too strongly. But he'd taken a half second too long and it hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Yeah, _like_ ", responded the team's youngest and only female member. In process of losing the unofficial drinking contest she slurred, "Thass the wrong 'L' word, yur usin' there, brah."

"Time to go home, Cuz." announced Chin as he stood and put his hands on Kono's shoulders - signal for her to stand as well.

"Nah, it's still early!" she protested, brushing his hands away and addressing Steve once again. "Lynn's nice but she's not, ya know, Catherine. Now _that_ woman had you comin' and goin' but I bet mostly . . ."

Danny nearly choked on the beer he'd been sipping.

Chin didn't let her complete the sentence. "Okay, that's it, Water Woman" he announced as he put his hands under her arms and pulled her upward. "I've gotta get you home before this turns into something that's going to require bail money."

"I'm bettin' on Kono." chuckled Lou as Chin frowned a ' _Don't encourage her'_ at him.

Steve was silent as he blinked at his obviously inebriated teammate. Kono had hit it on the head. _Lynn isn't Cath._ Finally he said calmly and quietly, "Yeah, maybe it is time for Kono to go home and get some rest."

He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Have completed several chapters of this story. Next chapter will be posted on Monday. I hope you'll let me know what you think of this – good or bad – all comments are welcome.**


	2. Marks

I'm No Angel

Chapter 2

 **Posted this a little earlier than planned. Sincere thanks for your comments on the first chapter as well as the listings in follows and favorites. They are much appreciated.**

 **This story takes a bit of poetic license. The 'liver thing' never did set right with me so I chose to ignore it. Chin and Kono are still around and haven't yet decided if Jerry will be included in this one so he's not here for now. In any case I hope you'll enjoy this tale of a not-so-perfect Steve.**

 **Disclaimer: No money was made and no livers were harmed in the making of this story.**

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 **Marks**

Marie spotted him as soon as she sat down. He shouldn't have even been that memorable . . . but he was. Her one-night-stands were just a way to relieve tension; the kind she always felt before a job. Luckily, the tall, tattooed sailor had proven to be just the ticket to help her 'relax'. But, despite their liaison, they were barely more than strangers. The only thing she'd learned about him then was that he was Navy. The only thing he'd learned about her was that she gave as good as she got.

Tonight she learned two additional things. The first - she'd heard the little blonde guy call him, 'Steven' as they bickered about something. But the second thing was perhaps a bit startling. The people he'd been drinking with were obviously law enforcement. They had that self-assurance and stance that marked them as such. To a lot of people, (particularly those who found themselves outside the boundaries of legality), their profession was easily apparent even though they wore no uniforms. This bunch may as well have had a big neon sign above their table, with a blinking arrow pointing downward and the saying 'Here Be Cops'.

As she sat waiting for her drink, her fingertips traced a pattern on the surface beneath them as though outlining an invisible design. Alas, instead of warm skin stretched over rippling muscle, she felt only the cool smooth laminate of the tabletop. _S_ he smiled to herself, _Talk about sense memory._

Pleasant as their first meeting had been, it was a mere reciprocal transaction; a trading of flesh for comfort. It was immediate and intense; even a little desperate. But whatever it was, it certainly wasn't love; it wasn't even affection.

"So . . ." said the one whose name she now knows is Steven. He'd ambled up to her table to stand looking down at her; a crooked smile on his face. His friends had apparently left him behind.

There was no way she could deny knowing him. They'd practically crawled beneath one another's skins that night at the cottage on the pier. Some things were as indelible as that ink that decorated the man's muscled arms.

She smiled up at him. "Hey, sailor. You want to sit down and have a drink with me?"

In answer, he pulled out the chair across from her and folded himself gracefully onto it. The glassiness of the hazel eyes that featured an awning of lashes most women would envy indicated a lack of sobriety but there was no wobble in his movements.

"Though it's a pleasant surprise, I certainly never expected to see you here . . . or anywhere for that matter." he chuckled. "What brings you to our rock in the middle of the Pacific?" Turning to look over his shoulder, he beckoned their waitress.

"Just a bit of work. I'm not staying long." she smiled. "What are you doing here? I noticed you were with a group but it seems they've abandoned you."

"Just some work colleagues. We were celebrating the end of an assignment."

"Kind of a subdued celebration." she observed, "You all look exhausted; must be a stressful job."

"It can be." he responded cryptically. "But come to think of it, at our last meeting, we didn't discuss what kind of work either of us did. I guess we were maybe a little distracted at the time."

"Yeah, _distracted_. I could go with that." she laughed then once again picked up her drink. He seemed reluctant to give her further information about his type of employment. That's okay. She'd be no more forthcoming about her own. If she did, she'd have to lie.

Her dark eyes peered coyly over the rim of her glass as she sipped. Perhaps she should at least ask; "So, what is it that you do? I know you're Navy but I don't know what it is that you do for your country."

" _My_ country?" he asked, "So, I guess that means that you're not necessarily from the U.S.?"

Her response was only a mysterious smile. She left the question unanswered; her nearly black eyes crinkling at the corners.

When she remained silent he could have let it go but didn't. Here was a mystery to solve. He was good at mysteries. "From that very, very, slight accent and a liking for La Fin Du Mond ale, I'd say you are maybe French Canadian?"

She was surprised. Not many people would ever guess she was from anywhere but the U.S. She'd have to be more careful. Perhaps she'd have to change her choice of alcohol.

Knowing he'd guessed correctly, his companion's eyes having widened almost imperceptibly, he asked, "Où as tu grandi?"

"Okay, you got me." she laughed, "To answer your question, I grew up in Quebec."

"Nice." he replied as the busy waitress finally headed to their table.

"Yeah, if you like snow." she snorted, "It's a little too cold for me these days . . . at least in winter."

"Well, you're in a good place if you don't like the cold. You just have to make sure you've got the right clothing and a good sunblock . . . and an umbrella if you don't like getting rained on."

"I don't mind a little rain. And I really like the heat." Trailing a finger down the side of her glass she caught a drop of condensation and bought it to her lips. Looking at him through her own thick lashes she asked, "You think we can make it a little warmer?"

…

Whether want or need it didn't matter. It was like some sort of strange addiction. At this moment, his world consisted of nothing other than her feel, her scent, her taste.

She threw back her head and gasped as teeth and lips claimed a trail along her throat to her collarbone then further down her writhing body.

Once again the demons receded from all awareness. All thought was driven away when strong thighs wrapped around his hips to draw him to her.

It still wasn't love but, for tonight, it would do.

…

Danny yawned and stretched, his chair creaking as he blinked against the morning sunlight pouring through the blinds to stripe the floor of his office. The supposed monsoon had capriciously veered off in another direction leaving only suffocating humidity to deal with.

"Hawaiian weather sucks." he muttered as he flipped open his laptop and fired it up. Waiting for it to fully boot, his mind wandered back to the subdued Saturday night case-closed get together.

In the end, everyone had followed their scripts. Chin had driven Kono home before there were any consequences for giving 'dating' advice to her boss. Lou had made it home to the loving arms of his wife before she called to remind him to behave himself. And, despite misgivings at leaving his friend to his own devices, Danny had gone home to get some sleep to fortify himself against the ungodly hell of thirty screaming rugrats and a bouncy castle. He'd been hoping the storm now predicted for tomorrow evening would arrive early and cancel the event but then realized inclement weather would only trap him indoors with the little hellions. Even sans inflatable architecture he'd be screwed. There was truly no mercy in this world.

He'd reluctantly left Steve drinking at the bar; his partner having assured him for the hundredth time that, though sloshed, he was perfectly capable of calling a cab to get home. Johnny, the usual bartender at the hotel's lounge wasn't on duty that night or he'd have been a bit more confident leaving his friend to his own devices.

In hopes of confirming Steve had made it home in one piece he'd even tried to call him yesterday but there'd been no answer, it rolled over to voicemail after only three rings. He'd actually left several messages with no call back. But just before panic had set in, Steve had texted him that all was well and that he wouldn't be in cell range for the rest of the day. Danny assumed that meant he was going on one of his hikes into the wilds of Oahu where he usually went to wind-down. The guy certainly needed it. He'd been 'off' for weeks now.

Though unlikely there was also that other possibility. The detective recalled walking toward the exit and taking a glance at the woman who'd seemed to mightily distract his friend. She sat sipping from a Pilsner glass; its contents having been poured from a bottle that sat at her elbow. He didn't recognize the label.

She was what some called a 'handsome' woman; features strong and unadorned by layers of cosmetics. Her legs looked miles long in the short skirt she wore. He estimated she was nearly as tall as Steve but it was hard to tell unless he saw her actually standing. By the time he'd reached the exit he'd decided that, though perhaps not in a traditional way, the woman was quite beautiful. He couldn't blame his partner for being so distracted.

He dismissed the thought with a snort. Steve had never been one to wander despite countless invitations to do so. Neither Lynn nor Catherine before her had any idea what/who their man had fended off to remain steadfastly loyal. As far as he knew, the man had never strayed during a year's long previous relationship so it was unlikely that he'd be stepping out on the current one.

Still, as he'd reached the Camaro there'd been an alarm bell clanging loudly in his subconscious. He and Steve hadn't worked together for this long without learning one another's tells. Along with that flash of recognition that crossed his face when Steve had first seen the mystery woman, there'd been something else as well. Maybe that was what had prompted the remark from Kono. Women were scary sometimes when it came to recognizing certain things. He knew this for a fact. He could never hide anything from his ex.

He also knew that his friend was very good, (at times disturbingly so), at employing deception to achieve his goals. Though there was usually no worry this talent would be used to cause anyone harm – at least no one who didn't deserve it – the man could lie like a politician running for office.

And speaking of intuition and deception; over the last several months Danny was getting a feeling that the SEAL's random covert assignments weren't as alluded. He was pretty sure his secretive partner had slapped on the hated 'classified' label to keep him from asking any questions. The guy could be doing anything out there and they'd never discover what he'd been up to unless he chose to tell them or he wound up dead and someone detailed the cause of his demise in some kind of report. Fat chance there as well.

Occasionally, (he told himself it was out of concern for Steve's safety), Danny would press for more but the only response he'd get would be that flat-eyed stare down an aquiline nose. Were he a lesser man, (or one not familiar with the bullshit tactic), he'd have been intimidated.

Five-0's commander could be a right bastard when he wanted to be. Everyone from the janitor all the way to the governor knew it. That hard-assed rep wasn't just for show; it had been earned.

Steve could be frightening when in SEAL mode. Danny himself had witnessed the quiet savagery of which his partner is capable. Anyone who dared cause harm to those he was sworn to protect were in mortal danger. When McGarrett's house had been the scene of a battle to protect the dictator of a foreign country several years ago, Kono had related what she'd witnessed.

McGarrett had come up quietly behind an attacker she wasn't aware had crept up behind her. He'd silently swiped a blade across the man's throat then let the body drop and stepped over it. She'd described his eyes as having been as blank and expressionless as a snake's. Though her boss had been protecting her, his cold efficiency at dispatching an enemy had greatly affected their rookie. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before.

Danny wondered if it would bother her as much now that Kono is a seasoned veteran. The woman is nearly as lethal as her boss. Steve had trained her well.

He sighed at the ongoing mystery of the man he regarded as a brother but may never fully know. Perhaps there's a lot to Steve that his ohana may never see - and maybe it's just as well. He's not giving up though. It may take a while but Detective Daniel Williams has no doubt he'll someday figure this one out. The man could run but he couldn't hide - not for long anyway.

After another twenty minutes the missing man himself straggled in only seconds before Five-0's workday officially began. It was unusual for him to be this 'late'. Steve was almost always at his desk when the rest of his team arrived in the mornings.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Danny, "After that one text I didn't hear from you again and you never returned my calls. When you got back from being outa range you coulda at least called to let me know you were still alive."

Steve paused only to silently smirk at him before disappearing down the hallway to see if anyone had made coffee which, at this point, is medicinal. Caffeine was definitely needed to combat the feeling that he'd run a fast 10K with a sixty-pound pack. He ached all over.

His bed mate had been gone by the time he'd awakened; having left a note to say that she had to go to work. She wrote that she'd had a great time, (the word 'great' all in caps which made him smile), and that perhaps they could get together again in the next few days. The name she signed at the bottom of her missive was 'Marie'.

But when he'd gone to shower he'd been startled by the visual evidence of their energetic evening. In the giant mirror over the hotel's marble sink, he could see that his skin was littered with bruises – some in the shape of teeth – and there were even places where skin had been broken. He'd have to avoid taking off his shirt in front of anyone for the next several days. The marks would be fodder for speculation if not outright derision. He certainly had no desire to explain their origin.

Danny had followed him into the breakroom ostensibly to get another cup of coffee; making it a point to mention that Kono had brewed it. Little did their leader know that his team was unanimous in their opinion of his skill at brewing Five-0's life's blood. How anyone could produce such undrinkable sludge from such a wondrous device was a mystery to them.

As reward for recovering a coffee grower's kidnapped son, Five-0 had been gifted with the Rolls Royce of coffee/espresso makers. The thankful father had donated the expensive apparatus to the Governor's Special Task Force along with another such device to HPD. To be sure, this latest in high-tech brewing machines, (in the hands of anyone other than Commander Steven J. McGarrett), produced a magnificent cup of coffee.

For a state agency to accept such a gift, official permission was required. When they'd gotten the paperwork signifying the donation was Kosher, it had listed the full retail price of the 'brewing system'.

HPD had given it glowing reports; saying they'd have to 'up their doughnut game' in honor of such a wondrous device but in Lou Grover's loudly stated opinion: "No damned kitchen appliance should cost that much unless it irons your shirts, washes your car, and gives you a massage . . . with a happy damned ending!" Of course he'd edited that last part because Kono was standing there but he needn't have bothered. Five-0's female officer was no shrinking violet and she'd totally concurred about the happy ending.

Stereotypes aside, Kono really did know how to make a good pot of coffee. Steve had no idea what her secret is but it was heaven as the liquid warmed him from inside. Despite the weather being unusually warm, any heat left in his body after last night was only residual. Right now, his skin only felt clammy in the heavy mugginess. It was surreal.

"So, uhh. You get some Barry White last night?" smirked Danny, reaching for the pot to refill his own cup.

"What makes you think that?" asked Steve, trying to sound more casual than vexed at having been busted for his extracurricular activities. The little bastard is an annoyingly good detective.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe it's because you look like you haven't slept in a week, you're moving slower than your usual ninety-miles-an-hour, you've got on the clothes I know you were wearing when last I saw you and, oh yeah . . . you've got a giant hickey on your neck."

"Crap!" muttered Steve, hand automatically pulling the collar of his overshirt a little closer. He'd vainly thought the mark wasn't high enough to be visible.

"Tell Lynn that she needs to lay-off the love bites, babe." chuckled Danny as he tore open a fourth packet of sugar to dump into into a mug that now held what most would consider coffee-flavored syrup.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." replied Steve, trying to stave off his much too nosy partner until the caffeine kicked in and he could come up with something better. Right now his brain, along with the rest of him, felt like mush. If he denied it was his girlfriend who'd left the marks, it would be like chumming the waters; the guy would be on it like a tiger shark. He hadn't told him that Lynn was out of town so, for now, he'll let her take the hit.

Hoping to put an end the inquisition, he said irritably, "Don't you have work to do? I know the Governor is expecting us to be prepared for that meeting this afternoon."

"Yeah, yeah." said Danny with a dismissive wave; taking his cup and turning to walk back toward his office. "Just be sure you cover that up. It's a little junior high, babe. Maybe you can borrow some make-up from Kono." Then before his partner could reply, he corrected his suggestion, "Naw, wrong shade for you. Oh, I know! he exclaimed, having stopped in his tracks to turn toward him. "Sheila in Accounting is closer to your skin tone. Maybe she's got something you could use."

Danny's laughter trailed behind him down the hallway as his partner's 'skin tone' took on a decidedly more reddish hue. But as the perceptive detective reached his office to plop back into his chair, the wheels in his mind continued to spin. Something wasn't right. Perhaps this calls for further investigation?

…

It had been a clean head shot. While death by gunfire is usually fairly messy, this time there was very little blood and only a small neat hole in the head of the CEO of Capwell Construction. The guy was beyond help or caring but the woman who'd found the body needed a box of Kleenex and a seriously large hit of Xanax.

"He was such a nice man!" she wailed as they waited for her to calm down. Steve, at the end of his patience, looked at Danny with a 'Could you _please_ do something to get her stop crying' expression. He rolled his eyes then walked back to the other side of the ME's van where Max was busily examining the body.

CSI's were crawling all over the parking garage now and the governor had already called several times to light a fire under the investigation. The man who'd been killed was pretty high profile; his millionaire status gaining him friends among the higher economic echelons of the island.

"Found something!" called down one of the crime scene techs who'd leaned over the railing a couple levels above.

"Be right up to take a look!" Steve called out in answer before jogging up the spiral ramp to see what the technician was so excited about.

"Maybe someone used this spot to rest a weapon on?" asked CSI John Pepeekeo who was of course called 'PP', (or sometimes peepee), by his coworkers. He pointed toward what looked like scuff marks on the metal railing.

Though not winded from his uphill run, Steve's head pounded as he bent to more closely examine the faint scratches. _Maybe getting hammered then staying awake for almost forty-eight hours wasn't such a good idea,_ he thought.

"Looks like someone screwed down a spotting scope here. Good eye, PP", said Steve, "I know I don't have to tell you what to look for but tell the lab to get back to Five-0 right away with anything you guys come up with. The Governor's already breathing down our necks on this one." Pepeekeo nodded and returned to diligently scouring the area for evidence.

Steve squinted at the activity two levels below. There were many things in the way of a direct sight-line to the target: beams, columns, railings, vehicles, etcetera. Whoever fired from here knew what they were doing. To get a clear shot, they'd have to wait for that one split second when the victim was visible between two concrete pillars on his way toward the elevator.

"Hey!" Danny's voice echoed up from below. "You comin'?"

They needed to interview the victim's coworkers to see who may have had a grudge against him but Steve already knew from what he'd seen that this had to be a professional hit. That certainly didn't bode well. As he jogged back down the ramp, he searched his pockets for some aspirin.

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 **I hope you'll see fit to comment. Would love to hear from you. Next update on Thursday.**


	3. Animals

I'm No Angel

Chapter 3

 **Here's another a day early. Am planning on being in a turkey coma on Thanksgiving so I had to post this today. Thank you all for your response to the first two chapters. I love hearing from you guys.**

 **SPNGran is once again buttkicker and beta for this story. Both are much needed. Of course I had to mess with it after she did her thing and Imaginary Beta took over for the last proofing. You know what to expect.**

 **Disclaimer: Made no money from this. Suspect that I may be a closet masochist.**

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 **Animals**

After learning his name she'd done some some poking around online and was more than a little surprised to find that the man with whom she'd been dallying isn't just your everyday cop but the leader of the Governor of Hawaii's Special Task Force and, from all accounts, a total badass. She'd suspected as much – the badass part anyway. She'd seen his type before; all hard edges and coiled energy linked with a feral wariness indicating mistrust of the world in general.

It's pretty much how she herself rolls. She'd already learned the hard way that no one was to be trusted.

'Les gens sont des ostie de pourris' or ' _People are just no damned good.'_ Those bitter words were unfailingly dispensed in the wake of her mother's abandonment by yet another of her revolving door of lovers. Maman had been a good woman but a very, very, needy one.

Since then, years of her own travails had reinforced it - people aren't any good.

Now as hard and cynical as her profession dictates; she's excellent at what she does and is paid accordingly. Emotional encumbrances are to be avoided at all costs. It's a trade-off but the right one for her. Those who employ her know that the work will be done without qualms and to their specifications and that it will never be traced back to the one who'd paid for it. Marie Roux always keeps her word. It was perhaps her only remaining virtue.

Bored with her task, she closes her eyes to once again picture the hazel-eyed, dark-haired sailor. Her fingertips unconsciously move across the surface of a fabric covered thigh as though outlining the ridges and hollows of an exquisitely muscled body. Then pulling herself from the thought she sighs aloud and opens her eyes to get back to her task. This thing won't sharpen itself.

She'd become much too distracted. This unwise involvement with Hawaii's premier officer of the law has all the potential for disaster but she can't seem to help herself.

 _Okay, so the man is a cop but I'm damned good at what I do. The sailor is smart but he'll never figure it out. Though it's a bit different with this one, I've been in similar situations and no one has ever discovered how I make my living. Well, there was that one guy . . . Too bad about him but it was necessary. There's no way I'm going to be locked-up again. Those prison guards . . ._ She shuddered at the memory before pulling herself back to the present.

She smiled as she tested the edge of the blade with her thumb. _Perhaps I can use this situation to my advantage. Certainly it would be interesting, no?_

...

After a long, hot, sticky day in paradise, Five-0's dynamic duo had come up with zilch. According to the employees of Capwell Construction, Bernard Sanderson had been a saint; honest and hardworking. The very paragon of virtuous commerce, (if such a thing even existed), that no one could possibly have wanted killed.

Uh huh.

What didn't help matters, is that during interviews, Steve had been downright abrupt with several of those questioned. Patience had never been one of his virtues but he usually worked around it when interacting with the public. His partner's job this day, in addition to detecting, is apparently to run interference between Five-0's leader and pretty much anyone they ran across during the investigation.

It hadn't been easy. By the time they parted ways for the evening, Danny had had it up to here with one Commander Steven J. McGarrett. Grateful they'd knocked off early enough to allow him to stop by Rachel's to see his kids before they were asleep for the night, he made sure Steve knew it was the only thing that prevented him from strangling 'someone' because then he'd be delayed by the paperwork he'd have to fill out for yet another homicide.

They pulled into the lot at the Palace just as the setting sun offered a display of molten oranges and pinks. The day had only marginally cooled so the image of a bright orb sinking into a blazing cauldron seemed appropriate.

Steve, tossing his still seated partner the keys, emerged from the Camaro, but rather than walk away, he continued to stand by the open driver's door as though he wanted to say something. Silent seconds ticked by but it seemed the moment had passed. With a wordless shrug and a shake of his head he pushed the door shut and strode toward his truck parked a few slots away. As he walked he pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in a number.

Danny watched him for a moment then snorted in frustration. He shook his head as he got out of the car. He walked around to the driver's side and roughly pulled open the door then slipped into the seat; adjusting it forward before turning the key. Slamming the Camaro into gear, he roared off faster than usual.

...

A sodden breeze blowing through the sliding doors open to the balcony did little to dry the sweat glistening on their tangled bodies as they lay gasping to restore depleted oxygen.

"You are gonna kill me." he chuckled breathlessly as he rolled onto his back to wait for his pulse to slow.

"Yeah, but can you think of a better way to go?" she replied; her own frantic heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Their room faced the ocean and wasn't all that high up. The sound of waves booming onto the shore below, along with the barely discernible tinkle of ukulele music from the hotel's seaside lounge, drifted in with the heavy night air. Several minutes passed as they lay half-dozing; lulled by the the noise.

She rolled toward him. There was just enough light to make out the tattoo on his shoulder; the one she'd found so intriguing at their first assignation. She kissed it, tasting salt as her lips lingered there.

He shuddered as her tongue delicately traced the design inked onto his shoulder. "Okay, now you really _are_ trying to kill me." Turning his head to look into dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "You are so bad." he chuckled.

"No worse than you." she smiled, white teeth visible in the dim light. "Besides, I seem to recall that this 'intent to kill' was mutual. You know that saying about two wrongs making a right? Well, in this case," she purred as she began to nip along his neck, "two bads make a good."

"Two bads make it fuckin' spectacular," he murmured against heated skin before claiming her mouth once again.

...

"You still look like crap." pronounced Danny as his friend strode into the office.

"Thanks." replied Steve, pausing only to roll his eyes before moving off down the hallway.

He wasn't as late as yesterday but he still wasn't as early as usual.

Continuing to ignore his partner, Five-0's leader made his way to the breakroom. Said partner, persistent as always, followed him.

"Did you even get any sleep?" asked Danny, stepping into the space that held the magic coffee maker in addition to a fridge, microwave, and small table.

"Yeah, some."

"How much is some?"

"Enough for me if not for you, Sleeping Beauty. What's with the third degree?"

"I have to find out if I'm going to be working with a zombie today. If you're gonna be half asleep then I'll have to take extra measures."

"What extra measures?" grumbled Steve as he turned to rummage through the cupboard over the coffee maker. Finding a mug that didn't belong to anyone in particular he pulled it out then peevishly grabbed up the stainless steel carafe to pour himself some Maui blend. Adding cream, he took a sip then set the cup on the counter. Scowl firmly in place he pivoted toward his partner to await an answer.

"Extra measures - like making sure my partner doesn't fall asleep in his food, making sure we have a pillow and blankie if we go on stake-out and, of course, I may have to drive."

"Like hell."

"Look, Rambo, l don't want to meet my maker because you wrapped the car around one of those stupid banyan trees when you nodded off in the middle of a car chase."

"I'm not gonna . . .", began Steve before abandoning the sentence to snap, "Just drop it, Danny. I'm not in the mood for your crap today!"

There wasn't any real heat behind it but it was unusual for Steve to be so grumpy this early. It usually took a few minutes before the day's circumstances conspired to ruin his 'sunny' disposition. Realizing there was nothing to be gained by pursuing the issue, Danny bit his tongue and changed the subject. Steve hadn't brought it up so he asked, "Did Max ever get hold of you? He said he'd tried to but there was no answer when he called."

"Umm, no. Well I didn't get the message if he left one. My phone died."

"What? You destroy another one or did the battery croak?"

"I, umm, I misplaced the charger."

Danny frowned. This was totally unlike Mr. If-You-Aren't-Prepared-It-Could-Get-You-Killed McGarrett.

Little did the detective know that Steve was kicking himself for screwing-up. He'd turned off his phone last night and, in his haste to get ready for work, had forgotten to power it back on. He couldn't remember ever having done that before. He'd have to be more careful . . . and Danny needed to give it a rest.

"So, rather than harass me about my damned phone, why don't you just tell me what Max said." snapped Steve.

"He said the slug was a 22-250 caliber." calmly replied the detective knowing that not reacting to his partner's foul mood would be ever so much more annoying to the man. "That's a little small for a sniper rifle isn't it?" he asked.

Immediately all business, Steve replied, "It's a smaller caliber but it'll kill you just as dead. And, no, it's not the usual sniper set-up. The Brits and the Aussies use 22-250's to lessen excessive penetration and ricochets. A round doesn't usually punch all the way through a head or body. It's what you use when you don't want to make a big mess. You have to hit your target in just the right spot for a kill-shot though. Takes some major skill."

Danny was always a little taken aback by his friend's nonchalant description of mayhem but it's what Steve had been trained for; part of the skillset in use when he'd been deployed. Still, despite knowing his friend's background, these small glimpses into what had been his partner's life before Five-0 were a little unsettling.

"So, our sniper is quite the expert." said Chin who'd entered the break room to get his own cup of heaven. Searching through the cupboard to find his favorite, he pulled out the red mug that no one else ever used. The team knew of its significance; Chin's late wife had given it to him.

"There aren't many who could make that shot, especially using that kind of ammo." replied Steve. "It takes training along with natural talent."

"It's something to work with." said Chin, "That kind of marksmanship is rare."

Caffeine supply now in hand, the three repaired to the main room, joining Kono and Lou who were already standing at the smart table.

After a brief discussion regarding the caliber of ammunition used, Steve ordered, "To save time we'll split up the search. Kono, you start looking through Interpol's database for known mechanics who use 22-250 ammo in their sniper kits. Chin can check into the domestic data bases while you're doing that. Lou, you check with the gun shops to see if they've sold any ammo of that caliber lately. It's popular with hunters of small game so you'll probably be busy running down any names they come up with. If you need help, ask Duke to loan you someone, maybe Pua."

The three nodded to acknowledge their orders. With Jerry being away for a couple of weeks for computer forensics classes on the mainland, everyone had to pitch-in to do the assignments usually given to their resident conspiracy theorist. As they started to walk away, Steve asked, "Has Denning called?"

"Not yet . . ." answered Chin.

As if by prearrangement, Danny's phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, smirked, then turned its screen toward Steve, "Speak of the devil." he sing-songed. The device identified the caller as the chief official of the great state of Hawaii. He cleared his throat and thumbed the 'accept' icon, "Detective Williams." he answered as Steve stood next to him frowning at what was probably to come.

"Yes sir. We've got some additional information that could be of help." Then rolling his eyes at his partner he said, "I just heard from him. He called from a landline because his phone is on the fritz. He stopped by the ME's office on the way in. Yes sir, I'll have him call you as soon as he gets here."

With that, Danny hit 'end' and said to the man standing before him. "You owe me."

….

Three more days had passed and the only advance in the case had come in the form of a name, or rather a nickname, found in Interpol's database. There _is_ someone who'd made a habit of offing people with smaller caliber bullets than the usual used in sniper rifles. At least twelve kills had been confirmed, the last in California, with most of the victims having been international business types or politicians. Whoever had done the work was brilliant at not leaving any clues other than the bullet itself. That the local CSI's had even found scuff marks was evidence of their thoroughness or perhaps just a miracle.

"So this Eidolon might be who we're looking for." said Chin to the others as all nodded in confirmation.

"What the hell is an eidolon?" asked Danny whose vocabulary had never before been found wanting unless it was for words in Hawaiian.

"It's from ancient Greek literature."answered Steve, "It means spirit or ghost."

All four teammates stared at their leader nonplussed. Steve could sometimes come up with such random information. None of them knew him fully; not even his best friend who would occasionally accuse his partner of bordering on the pedantic.

"What?" asked Five-0's leader, at their reaction. When he got no answer he snorted dismissively then said, "Someone must have profited from this guy's death. We've gotta get back out there and find out who."

"Considering we have nothing else to go on other than knowing the caliber of the bullet that killed him, I'd say that's the only way to go." agreed Danny. "Successful business types can accrue a lot of enemies."

"Looks like we've got a lot of legwork to do." sighed Kono, resigning herself to braving the heat and humidity that had plagued the islands for the last several days. It was pretty much always humid here but it had been particularly ferocious for the few days. Forecasters blamed it on the approaching storm that was growing to hurricane status.

"You guys stay here and let your fingers do the walking while Danny and I go interview the victim's employees and associates again. The motive for wanting the guy dead has gotta be love, money, or power."

"Sex, you forgot about sex." sourly interjected Danny who was so not looking forward to driving around in this weather, AC or not.

"I think that's covered under the 'love' part." answered Steve.

"Nope, not even close, babe. Two different animals entirely."

…

She wasn't supposed to be back to Honolulu for another week yet. She hadn't called him; her phone had died and her charger was still in the bag that, due to an airline snafu, hadn't arrived on the same flight as its owner.

Though it was nearly eleven, she hoped he wouldn't mind if she just showed up. Their relationship, while exclusive, still had a sort of distance to it. They hadn't even exchanged keys. That was fine with her for now but she really wants to see if they can take it further.

 _What's not to like?_ she smiled to herself as she turned her Jeep onto Piikoi Street. Her handsome boyfriend is smart, funny, kind, and definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom. Even though she felt Steve wasn't 'all-in' emotionally, perhaps it was just too early in their relationship. They had time. She's certainly willing to make the effort to get to the next level.

Nearing the rambling two-story she can see that his truck is there but there are no lights on in the house. Steve's usually still up at this hour; he doesn't seem to need much sleep. Maybe he had a hard day and turned in early? He'd sounded tired when they spoke briefly on the phone yesterday.

She pulled in next to the Silverado. He'd told her once that Danny teases him about the gigantic blue truck; comparing him to those guys who drive excessively large and expensive vehicles as overcompensation for their shortcomings. _Certainly nothing to worry about in that department,_ she smiled to herself as she shut off the engine.

She could almost feel warm lips nibbling a line down her neck as her skin tingled in anticipation. _I'll make it worth it to him for waking him up_ , she thought as she got out of the car to make her way through the small gate under the wooden arch adorned by flowering vines. The pathway to the porch was lit only by a couple of dim solar lights but she'd know her way even in complete darkness. He was sure going to be surprised to see her.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you all have a great one. If you are from a place that doesn't celebrate it, have a lovely day anyway.**

 **Next update on Sunday. Would love to hear what you thought of this chapter.**


	4. Wrestling

I'm No Angel

Chapter 4

 **We meet again. I know this edgier version of Steve isn't everyone's cup of tea or bottle of Longboard so, if you're still reading it, I'll take that as a compliment, (and consider you a discerning, enlightened, and tolerant individual).**

 **This chapter was reworked until it wasn't anything like the original version. By the time it was ready to see daylight, Imaginary Beta was the only one left standing. You guys know how that usually works out. All remaining errors are hers.**

 **Disclaimer: If I made money from this, I'd be sitting on a beach drinking mai tais and running my fingers through a tall guy's very short grey-flecked hair. Wait! Where's the tats!? Uh oh, sounds like Husband crashed my fantasy . . . dammit!**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Wrestling**

Growling in annoyance, he untangled himself from his companion and rolled out of bed to search the floor for something to put on.

Whoever's pounding on the door isn't going away. Danny would have entered by now and would be calling up the stairs to get him to come down. After an embarrassing incident when Catherine had still been here, he'd learned to not just walk-in.

With an apologetic look toward Marie whose dark eyes danced with merriment as she lay invitingly reclined ala The Naked Maja, he slipped into his pants; pulling them up as he moved to the bedroom door. The insistent knocking continued as he descended the stairs.

"Alright already! I'm coming!" he called out to whoever was making the racket. Chances are that anyone who meant harm wouldn't be pounding away on his door – even at this hour.

Fastening the button at his waistband with one hand, he reached for the handle with the other. "This better be important." he muttered as he pulled the door open.

"Steve!" The light from the old fixture mounted high-up next to the door frame cast her face in shadow but the grin on it wasn't hidden.

 _Oh crap!_

She launched herself at him as he put his hands up just in time to fend her off. "Whoa!" he exclaimed.

She was startled by his reaction and seeing the hurt look on her face, he hastily explained, "I'm sorry, Lynn. It's _not_ that I'm not happy to see you but it's hot and I've been working out so I'm disgustingly sweaty. Hugging me right now would be pretty gross for you."

Her disconcerted expression turned come-hither as she replied, "Thanks for the warning but I've been all 'sweaty' with you before. Actually, since it's been awhile, way too long in fact, I think getting all sweaty together might be a good idea. Don't you?"

While she gazed at him through her lashes he hoped the alarm he was feeling didn't show. _How the fuck am I going to get out of this one?_ he thought in desperation. _This is bad. This is very, very, bad._

"Well, um, why don't I get cleaned up then we can catch-up with one another? There's a new all-night coffee shop around the corner that I've been wanting to try. We can get something to eat while you tell me all about your trip."

She frowned; her look of seduction turning into one of what was hopefully only mock speculation. Cocking her head and narrowing her eyes she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think that you've got something to hide, sailor."

"Nope, nothing to hide", he replied; words accompanied by a lopsided grin he hoped was convincing. "Well, except the chocolate that I try to keep out of everyone's paws. I've had to move my stash twice now because you and Danny have apparently figured out where I hide the goods."

"I assure you, Steve, those are not the goods I'm after tonight." she cooed, fingers coyly twirling the ends of her long blonde locks before she broke out in actual giggles.

 _Shit, shit, shit! She's not gonna give up!_ Was his desperate thought.

"Lynn, why, umm . . . why don't you let me shower first then I'll make up for lost time." he said, though he had no idea from whence would come the energy to follow through on his words.

She grinned suggestively at mention of a shower and, before he could protest, grabbed his hand to pull him toward the stairs. Engaging in a tug of war with her would be a little suspicious to say the least so he reluctantly let himself be towed along by his determined girlfriend.

"No, really." he tried again, "I've gotta umm, rest a little. That workout I was in the middle of when you rang the bell just kinda kicked my ass."

"I'm sure we can find a way around the issue." she blithely replied. "I've really missed that ass."

Like a man being led toward the gallows, each step another toward his doom, he trudged up the stairs while thinking, _I've been in combat situations that were less fucking stressful!_ Two steps from the bedroom he shut his eyes to concentrate on getting his breathing under control.

"Damn!" he heard as she came to an abrupt stop just inside the doorway; nearly causing him to bump into her.

Eyes flying open, to his amazement, (and indescribable relief), he saw that the room was empty. The bed had been made, discarded clothing was nowhere in sight, and all was in order. Every window, including the French doors leading to the balcony had been opened. Moonlight poured in along with a breeze blowing freely through the room. There was even enough illumination to see the set of weights lying on the floor in front of the closet door.

"You have got to be one of the neatest housekeepers I've ever met!" exclaimed Lynn.

"Wha . . . What?" he stammered.

"Aren't you guys like supposed to make a gigantic mess when there's no woman around to impress?"

Nearly light-headed with relief as he surveyed the room, he couldn't respond.

"You know, said the blonde, "that was a long flight and the humidity here is atrocious . . . well, more atrocious than usual." She prattled on. "In just the twenty minutes or so that it took me to get here from the airport I've become nearly as sweaty as you are. A nice . . . long . . . shower . . . would be just the thing."

With his hand still firmly clutched in hers, she looked coyly over her shoulder while practically dragging him toward the attached bath.

His heart began to hammer once again. There was nowhere else for Marie to hide but the bathroom or maybe, (like in a bad sitcom), under the bed. _Oh God. This is gonna be messy,_ he told himself as he was towed along.

Lynn finally let go of his hand to enter the small room. Steeling himself once more, he followed her in.

And once more he'd gotten a reprieve. In the glow of the small nightlight plugged into the outlet above the wash basin, no woman was revealed to be hiding in the clear glass enclosure. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Lynn eagerly reached into the shower to get it going. The squeak of the faucet handles and the sound of rushing of water must have hidden the din. Surely, the sound of the mad pounding of his heart had to be echoing off the tiled walls and was audible to anyone within a mile radius.

"Why uh . . . why don't you get under the water while I go get us some towels." he suggested. "I'll join you in a minute."

"Don't be long, Steve. I've got plans for that soap." she grinned as she shimmied out of her jeans.

"Yeah, me too." he grinned. "Soap is good."

Ostensibly rushing to fetch towels, he quickly turned and left. Taking two strides then dropping to his knees on the hardwood floor he slid to a stop next to the bed then bent to look under it. It was too dark to see anything so he reached up to turn on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. Peering under the bed once again he could see that the space was empty save for a pair of black lace panties and a condom wrapper. He quickly retrieved both and stuffed them into his pocket. _Talk about incriminating evidence._

Hearing a faint laugh, he straightened to look toward the open French doors and saw a flash of movement on the balcony. Jumping to his feet, he rushed toward it but could only watch as Marie threw a long leg over the wooden balustrade and then slipped over it. A half second later he leaned out over the railing to see her recover from her landing. Grinning upward she briefly locked merry eyes on his startled ones then dashed lightly across the yard to disappear through the hedge.

"Steve?" he heard Lynn call from the bathroom.

"Yeah, be right there!" he called back. "I'm umm . . . I'm looking for that body wash you like. I think I stashed an extra bottle somewhere."

"I love that stuff! I hope you got an extra big bottle!" she giggled, "We've got a lot of soaping up to do!"

Rushing out of the room into the hallway, he grabbed up an armful of towels, a bottle of lavender-scented body wash, and a box of emergency candles from the linen closet. _Give me strength_ , he prayed as he picked up one more candle. On his way back with the supplies he stopped to turn off the bedside lamp.

He was dismayed to see that Lynn had turned the bathroom light on. Hands full, he used an elbow to flick the switch just inside the door as he entered.

"Hey!" Lynn yelped at the sudden dimness. She was just barely visible through the steamed over shower doors.

"I have plans too." he called back as he set down the things he carried, one of them being a fancy candle that had sat unused since Catherine had left. He knew it was petty but when he struck the match and watched the wick catch flame, there was the tiniest bit of satisfaction that the scented wax would be melting for another woman. "Now, isn't this more romantic for our shower?" he asked in a lowered voice.

With the room now bathed in a flickering glow, she bought it.

...…

 _What a rush!_ Marie chuckled to herself once again at the memory of her narrow escape.

It had been close but the consequences wouldn't have been that dire even if she'd been caught: some hysterics, angry words, accusations, tears, (not on her part mind you), but at least no one was going to get shot – today anyway.

She should have just left the room as it was; there'd have been no mistaking what had gone on in there. The bastard is lucky it was she whom he chose to cheat on his lady friend with. Too bad she couldn't hang around a bit longer. Watching him try to explain the circumstances to that messy-haired blonde would have been entertaining.

All in all it had been a good time. Hell, who was she kidding? It had been a great time! She stopped what she was doing to stare distractedly off into space for a moment; contemplating her liaison with the man she'd first met on a pier in San Diego. Yup, the sex had been fantastic. A body like his was made for it.

She wasn't foolish enough to pretend it meant anything other than what it was. The sailor had only been a lovely diversion; nothing more. What she _should_ have considered is that a man that attractive wouldn't be unattached. But when she'd done her usual snooping she'd found no photos of anyone who would appear to be a girlfriend.

Along with family pictures that had obviously been taken years ago, there'd been a few newer ones of people in military uniform or civilian friends with their spouses and kids. Some of the adults she recognized from that group at the bar. Maybe he's just a guy who doesn't get into relationships other than for the convenience of having someone with whom to let off a little steam? She could relate.

Sex should _always_ be just a physical thing. Long ago she'd learned to use her body as a form of payment - flesh in trade for whatever she needed to survive. To owe something to someone was to make oneself vulnerable. She couldn't afford vulnerable. Payment of a debt; whether in money or sex meant the transaction was over. Finis. Done with. No complications.

She shook her head; smiling at the irony. When she'd first left home she'd bargained her favors for the necessities: food, lodging, etcetera. Perhaps not all that much has changed. In trade for a tangle in the sheets with the rooms manager the place in San Diego, she'd secured lodging for which there was normally a wait of several months. The woman had been practically insatiable but it was an excellent deal. That cabin on the pier was lovely.

It still amazed her at what she'd accomplished over the years using only what God had given her. It had gotten her out of Sacré Coeur, anyway. There were no secrets in a town that small.

Still, the time spent with the handsome sailor had brought up feelings she'd be better off without. It was distressing to be reminded of something in herself she'd never managed to completely quell; that remaining bit of humanity that left her feeling exposed and had nothing to do with being naked in a room with a total stranger. In the past, when the need couldn't be stifled she'd find someone and pretend – for just a night – that she wasn't a soulless, destroyer of the living.

After another brief moment of reflection, her wallow in self-pity over, she hummed happily to herself as she went about her preparations for the next one.

...

He knew he'd been more than lucky. Even though he worn no shirt when answering the door, it had been dim enough that Lynn hadn't spotted the evidence left on his skin during his romps with Marie. He could have explained the bruises by saying they'd been acquired during a takedown or something but those bite marks . . .

He was nothing if not someone who could think on his feet. When he'd gone to get the shower stuff, he'd also snatched up the box of emergency candles he kept in the linen closet. As she was toweling her hair, he'd told her that he wanted to 'continue the mood' and had placed the utilitarian candles on improvised holders, (saucers), here and there in the bedroom - not too many though. The room needed to be dim enough so that Lynn wouldn't spot the marks that would have been hard to explain away and that would surely have meant a cataclysmic end to their relationship.

This morning he'd slipped quietly out of bed and left while she was still sleeping. Before leaving he'd paused to gaze down at her peaceful face and wildly disarrayed hair. Perhaps it was only his ego but he thought she looked content.

All-in-all, he thought he'd done okay with the situation – except for causing it in the first place that is.

But, rather than congratulate himself for pulling off the deception, it disturbed him that his faithlessness hadn't been all that difficult to hide – that he'd been so good at it. Certainly he had no qualms at using this skill at duplicity to resolve major conflicts or even minor annoyances at work but it bothered him that he'd duped someone who cared for him.

A guilty conscience can be a bitch sometimes.

…

"Jeeze, Steven. You look even worse than yesterday! What the hell are you doing in your off hours; wrestling grizzlies?"

Danny had accosted him before he'd even been able to get a cup of coffee.

"Wrestling maybe - just not grizzlies." was his tired reply while thinking. _I must look the way I feel_. During his marathon athletics last night, he'd may have pulled something. His aching back barely allowed him to bend far enough to tie the laces on his boots this morning. He'd used practically every trick in his book to make sure that Lynn had a 'memorable' homecoming. Now, he just needed a month to recuperate.

Danny, eyes narrowed, stood evaluating his friend. The guy has to be burning the candle at both ends to look like that.

With one eyebrow cocked, the astute detective asked, "You wanna elaborate on the wrestling?"

Steve looked at him lips pursed as though contemplating a dilemma. Finally, he sighed then said, "I gotta talk to you about a, umm, problem."

"That sounds like the lead-in to a deodorant commercial or maybe one for those little blue pills." quipped the detective who, behind the snark, was actually a little startled. Other than occasionally discussing Doris, his friend was pretty close-mouthed about anything troubling him.

"You know that woman at the bar the other night? The one that you said distracted me?"

"You mean the one who 'piqued your interest' at the restaurant's lounge?" asked Danny with a smirk abetted by actual hand quotes. "Yeah, she was quite the looker; in a sort of Cate Blanchett/Xena Warrior Princess kinda way."

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Just by those words, Danny knew that Steve was involved with her. No wonder he'd looked so thrashed. The tall raven-haired woman looked to be in excellent athletic condition. But Steve is already exclusive with Lynn and, as far as he knows, they're still together. _Now_ , things are starting to make sense . . . unfortunately. It looks as though the man who'd never strayed during a year's-long previous relationship was now stepping out on his current squeeze.

Steve ushered his friend into his office and closed the door behind him. Danny settled himself onto a chair while his partner leaned back against the front edge of his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I've been . . . I've been seeing her for the last few days. She's here for a job of some sort and she was looking for a, umm, distraction. She, I mean _we_ , found one."

"So, you mean you've been, as our demure little Kono would say, hittin' that?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were still with Lynn." frowned Danny.

"Yeah."

The detective sat in silence for a moment before clearing his throat. "I have to say that I'm a little surprised, babe. You've never been someone - that I know of at least - whose gone outside the uh . . . bounds of a relationship."

"You don't mean surprised, you mean disappointed." sighed Steve, turning his head to look out the window rather than at his partner. Clouds are beginning to form. Perhaps the storm the forecasters said had veered off had turned once again and was heading in their direction.

"Well, that too I guess. But, hey, I'm no one to talk. Rachel and I . . ."

"That was different." said Steve with a dismissive gesture. He turned his head, looking Danny in the eye before looking downward and saying. "Lynn's been out of town but she came back unexpectedly last night."

"You mean . . .?"

"It was, um, awkward." he admitted with a sigh.

"You mean she showed up while you and this other woman were . . .?"

"Yeah." Steve's face actually seemed to color.

"Oh shit! You mean she walked in while you were . . . you know?"

"No! I mean, yes . . . I mean . . ." Steve paused, obviously frustrated with the situation he'd found himself in, (or created).

"Wow." were the only words the detective could come up with.

"I think I fucked up, D."

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **I know this isn't the usual type of 'action' in my stories but that will be remedied shortly. There be physical and emotional whump ahead. Will be getting back to all who commented on the previous chapter. I apologize for putting the cart before the horse but I wanted to make a deadline. You guys are such taskmasters!**

 **Next update planned for Thursday or maybe sooner if you kids do your homework and eat your peas.**


	5. Magic

I'm No Angel

Chapter 5

 **Okay, homework was done and peas were eaten so I'm living up to my end of the deal. As you've probably already figured out, this is a 'grown-up' story. Just know that our wayward SEAL is in for a rude awakening soon. No whump yet, (at least for Steve), but it's coming. Thank you for your support by commenting, following, etc. It's much appreciated and** **much** **needed.**

 **Though I'm still not comfortable writing the sexy bits, they must have been at least somewhat effective. After reading the first draft, SPNGran went off muttering something about a cold shower. Being impervious to everything but chocolate, Imaginary Beta took over. All remaining errors are hers.**

 **Disclaimer: 'Girls just wanna have fun'. Since I don't get paid for this I'm going to make that my theme song.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Magic**

His friend had stunned him with the revelation. He'd known Steve for over seven years now and, in all that time, there'd been not even an inkling of him straying from a committed relationship. Though the 'thing' with Catherine had never been formally declared it had lasted many years before going up in smoke on the day he was planning to propose to her. Steve had waited over a year before establishing a relationship with Lynn. It probably couldn't even be considered a rebound thing. Then he'd seemed almost relieved when Lynn had asked that the relationship be exclusive.

Remaining silent for a moment, Danny cleared his throat then said, "Well, it's not the first time a guy, or a woman for that matter, has taken a walk on the wild side while in a supposedly committed relationship."

"I know." sighed Steve before dragging a hand tiredly over his face. "But I've never umm . . . I'm not usually that kinda guy. It's a first for me. I swear it is, Danny."

"I believe you. I mean, over the years I've seen women practically knock you down and sit on your face but you never gave them more than a glance because you were committed to someone else. I was totally impressed by your loyalty to Catherine."

Steve shrugged and said, "Yeah . . . well . . ." But he didn't finish the sentence.

"Whatever. You sure aren't good at catting around on the DL, babe. Your lack of experience at that kinda thing is obvious."

"That _was_ a close one." nodded Steve with a sigh. He didn't tell his friend that he'd actually used more than a bit of subterfuge to keep from being busted by his girlfriend. His conscience is still busily gnawing away at him.

"So, is this woman all that irresistible?" asked Danny. "Did she cast a spell or drug you with a potion or something?"

Deliberating for a moment before giving a serious reply to the questions couched in humor, Steve sighed, "I dunno, man. There's just something about her. I can't really explain it but we kind of connected somehow."

"Well, despite you getting more Barry White than you can handle, I wouldn't be you for all the pineapples in Hawaii right now. What were you thinking?!"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." said Steve with a rueful shake of his head. Then with a soft snort he added, "Actually it was a great idea . . . "

"Stop! I don't want to hear any details!" said Danny with a roll of his eyes. "Well, actually, I'd love to hear them but then I'd have to wash out my brain with soap."

"Soap is good." grinned Steve, glad to lighten up the conversation, "Especially that moisturizing body wash stuff. It's . . ."

"Stop already!" declared the detective, making the universal 'shut up' sign by motioning toward his neck with a flattened hand. Taking a breath and trying to clear any sudsy images from his mind he asked, "So, who is this Amazon you're knocking boots with? What is this femme fatale's name?"

"Marie."

"Just Marie? You mean like Adele or Beyonce . . . or Madonna?"

"She never told me her last name and I didn't ask."

"Well, _that's_ the basis for a good relationship." snorted Danny. "It's not like you to let something like that slide. Hell, I bet you even pulled the files on your dentist before you let him work on your teeth."

Steve only shrugged. He didn't look as though he had an answer. After a long moment, the only sound being the faintly heard voice of Lou Grover giving someone hell over the phone, Danny took a breath and asked, "So you gonna continue to lead a double life that, from the looks of it, is eventually gonna kill you or are you going to do something about this?"

"D, I don't even know what _this_ is." declared Steve, frustration with himself and the situation returning full-force.

...

Having nearly zero traction so far on a murder that had occurred five days ago, he'd stayed late intending to wage war on crime. But, despite his best intentions, he found himself instead waging war with his conscience. The situation truly wasn't fair to Lynn. She didn't deserve to be lied to.

It was past 10 pm and he was waffling on whether to have another cup of coffee. Finally deciding that he wouldn't be sleeping anyway, he picked up his cup and trudged toward the break room while thoughts tumbled in his head like socks in a dryer.

Sure, he knew Lynn wasn't 'the one' and maybe she was a little pushy at times but no more so than his work partner. He's also aware that he himself isn't the best of boyfriend material. Working such long hours and being called away at random times in the middle of the night wasn't the smoothest path to romance. But mostly, there was that part of him not willing to go all-in emotionally. Perhaps he'd have gotten there eventually but he'd been burned too many times by too many people to let himself be that vulnerable. Lynn deserved more than he was willing or even able to give. He had to let her go. The thought of having _that_ conversation made him cringe. No matter how he worded it, it would hurt her.

Then there was Marie. How could he have let himself get so caught up with her? He couldn't explain the . . . need. There, he'd said it. It was _need_ ; not love, not affection, not anything that he could define. He chuffed in frustration; no better at explaining his own actions than solving a murder. He was so screwed.

He needed to talk further with Danny. His mostly annoying partner could be surprisingly adept at helping to resolve things not related to pineapples or Hawaiian stuff in general. He'd long admired the man's ability to deal with the world of emotion; something he himself had always found challenging. They'd started a discussion about his 'situation' earlier today but, _surprise_ , they'd been interrupted by a phone call. From there the day had quickly gone downhill.

In addition to working on the as yet unsolved case, they'd been called-in to assist HPD in the takedown of a drug lab. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt when in the commotion one of the meth cooks had neglected to turn off the burner under his latest batch.

With assorted handcuffed prisoners in tow, the others had already cleared out. Pushing the last of the cranked-up idiots ahead of him, he'd just exited the ramshackle house when the brew of noxious chemicals had exploded. The structure had been blown to kindling.

After decontamination by a HAZMAT team, a quick once-over by the paramedics, and a change of clothing, he'd returned to the office with only a few new bruises and abrasions. His ears had only stopped ringing an hour ago.

Besides almost being killed, the whole thing had been embarrassing. Due to frequent need of their services he and his team knew all the EMT's by their first names. During the check-up, Kepano and Debbie hadn't commented on any teeth marks. Maybe they hadn't noticed them – yeah, sure.

Upon return to the palace he'd ordered his team home for what was left of their evening. The governor could just go fuck himself if he wanted another update.

The last to leave had been Danny who, on his way to the exit, had leaned in the doorway to say "Don't stay all night, Steven. You already look like you should be embalmed."

"Yes, mother." Steve had absently replied as he cued up HPD's notes on the boy's murder for what seemed the hundredth time. Maybe he'd missed something.

An hour-and-a-half and two cups of coffee later, he heard the door to the main office open. It had to be someone who belonged because, after eight pm, the only way to get in is with a code one had to punch into the keypad by the door. He assumed it was the janitor. He'd be glad to see the old guy because the office is in more disarray than usual. The place is a mess.

Five-0's commander has long had a rule: 'Everyone pick up after themselves before they go home'. Other than Danny who could be a slob and whose defense consisted of accusing him of 'schoolmarmery', (not even a legitimate word in his opinion), the others pretty much heeded it.

But they'd all gotten sloppy; himself included. Lately, the edict had been ignored because how in good conscience could it be enforced when they've been working their asses off until all hours?

Someone cleared their throat and he looked up expecting to see the maintenance man hauling in his cleaning supplies and the big bucket on wheels. He instead saw a tall, dark-haired woman standing at his office doorway. He hadn't even heard her approach.

"How the hell did you get in?" he exclaimed; half annoyed, half pleased, but startled nonetheless.

"That's not really the greeting I'd hoped for." smiled Marie as she leaned nonchalantly against the doorway. "I guess you were so engrossed in your work that you didn't see me."

"That may be but how did you gain entry? After hours, the only way to gain entry is with a code."

"I managed to convince your janitor that you were expecting me. Told him that I was your girlfriend."

"Pila shouldn't have let you in." he frowned. "I'll have to have words with him." He didn't want to admonish the man who'd been working here for many years before Five-0 had even been established, (or possibly before most of its members had been born), but it was an issue that needed to be addressed.

"Oh, don't. He's so sweet." soothed Marie. "He told me to take care of you; that you'd been working really long hours and you look really tired."

 _Crap! Even the janitor?_ thought Five-0's commander.

"Sorry for showing up so late" she smiled, "but I went by your place and there was no one there. Most people would be home from work by now, if not asleep."

"Most people would have used the phone to call first." he replied.

"Had to make sure you didn't have company. Getting a phone call in the middle of the night would have looked a little suspicious, no?"

"A midnight phone call isn't all that unusual for the work I'm in. Lynn's used to it."

Shrugging, she walked in to take a seat opposite his desk. With the grace of a cat she folded a long leg under her and lowered herself onto the chair. As though in some sort of caper movie she wore black calf-high boots, form-fitting black slacks and a black top, she looked good. Really good.

"You know," she said, "your girlfriend is quite attractive - if maybe a little too trusting. Blondes are not my thing but . . ." Raising one eyebrow suggestively she shrugged and smiled again, eyes dancing.

Her implication startled him but, being a guy, he had to admit to being intrigued as well. "So you . . .?"

"Let's just say that I'm an equal opportunity kinda girl."

"Hmm." he said before dismissing the libidinous fantasy that suddenly flitted into his mind. He really should be upset that she'd managed to worm her way into HQ.

Turning to survey their surroundings Marie said, "Looks like you guys have a sweet set-up."

"Yeah, we do okay." he agreed. "but you um . . . you shouldn't even be here." It was hard to concentrate. Her perfume, something spicy and exotic, was distracting as hell.

"But I am." she responded in a stage whisper, as she rose from the chair to walk around his desk and then perch on the edge of it.

He rolled his chair back in a perhaps unconscious attempt to put distance between himself and temptation.

It didn't deter her. She pushed aside his laptop then slid into the space she'd just cleared. Facing him knees apart she gripped the edge of the desk and leaned forward as she declared seductively, "You're an intriguing man, Commander McGarrett of the Governor's Special Task Force. I'm curious as to why you left active duty as a SEAL to head up 5-0. So mysterious."

Struggling to ignore his body's increasing interest in his visitor he chuffed, "I can't be that mysterious if you found out so much about me."

"Accounts of Five-0 and its esteemed leader are all over the internet. From what I've read, you have many fans as well as a few detractors." Leaning even closer, Marie lowered her voice to a whispery almost predatory growl. "And though you've rubbed a few people the wrong way, know that for me, the rubbing is always . . . just . . . right."

He swallowed much too loudly. This is definitely going where it shouldn't. "You uh, you really shouldn't be here." he protested, his resolve close to being washed away by the rush of blood leaving his head to travel southward.

"I just wanted to see where the magic happens." she said, her voice now a cat-like purr; her dark eyes nearly black as pupils dilated.

"The magic?" he responded, heartbeat increasing despite his best efforts.

"How about we make some magic of our own, sailor?" she breathed; reaching out to stroke a finger down the side of his face. He felt nearly dizzy as her perfume surrounded him. She climbed onto his lap, slotting her knees on either side and bending to ghost her lips across his forehead then down over his closed lids before moving to his mouth. Suddenly, gentleness abandoned, she bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

All decorum evaporated in a flash of heat.

That night, Commander Steven J. McGarrett, leader of the Governor of Hawaii's Special Task Force, broke another of his rules.

…

"Has someone been messing with the smart table?" asked Chin frowning as his fingers danced over its glass surface. He'd found their latest case files open and he knew he'd shut everything down before he'd left for the night.

"No, Cuz. Wasn't me." replied Kono who walked up to hand him a cup before sipping from her own.

"I haven't made friends with it yet so I wouldn't dare." replied Lou, big hand wrapped around a stoneware mug as walked up to stand where they usually gathered for their morning meeting. "It was probably Steve. He was here when we left and didn't look like he had any intention of packing up. Considering how tired he's been looking lately, maybe he just forgot about it."

"That's not like him but I guess it's not out of the realm." said Chin.

Danny strode in carrying a white bakery bag; its grease stains indicative of its contents. "Sorry I'm a little late. I hadda stop off to get these. I think we're going to need them today."

"You're right about the malasadas, brah." smiled Kono, "And no worries about being late. The boss isn't even here yet."

"That's weird. Did he call in?" asked the Jersey detective who dipped into the bag to pull out a sugar-coated lump of cop heaven before passing the paper sack around. He then proceeded to make the pastry disappear nearly faster than the eye could see.

"Yeah. He called a few minutes ago . . . something about dropping off his laptop for repair." replied Lou.

"Well, at least it's not his phone again. I swear, we outta just order the damned things by the gross the way he manages to destroy them." snorted Danny.

"We _may_ manage to at least slow down his rate of destruction a little." said Chin. "Last time I filled out the requisition for a replacement, I ordered an upgrade to the waterproof, shatterproof, almost indestructible version. I'm surprised budgeting approved it but they did."

"The thing would have to be blood and bullet-proof to keep our fearless leader from wrecking it." opined Lou.

"True but I don't think that's listed on the warranty." grinned Chin.

At the sound of the glass door swinging open, Danny announced, "Speak of the devil."

All turned to see the man in question striding quickly toward them.

" _The Devil_ had to drop off his laptop at that repair shop on Beretania. I had no idea how expensive it is to replace a cracked screen." explained Steve before saying, "Pass that bag over here."

"How the hell did you manage to crack the screen?" frowned the blonde who handed him the now lighter bag of malasadas. "You Google something that upset you and you shot it?"

Steve ignored the remark as Chin said, "You know, the state will pay for the repair. You don't have to fork over the cost. I'll get you the req form."

"No, that's okay, Chin. I was the one who broke it. Knocked it off my desk with my elbow when I was straightening up just before leaving."

"Still covered, brah. Accidents happen. The state will pay for the repair."

"Yeah, well, I feel responsible. I'm not usually so clumsy."

"No worries. Just fill out the form and you'll get reimbursed."

Rather than quibble in front of his team, Steve replied, "Yeah, I'll do that, thanks Chin." then addressing the group he asked, "So, what's going on? We get that final report back from the ME's this morning?"

"Yeah, it just arrived." answered Kono; usually the one to check Five-0's official in-box every morning. "Nothing that we didn't already know. Though the caliber of the bullet was small for a sniper round, the shot hit the victim at the exact spot to cause instantaneous death. It couldn't have been any more precise."

"Well, said Lou, "if it wasn't that Eidolon guy, it was someone with skills to equal his. I suppose there's room for more than one legendary contract killer."

"That's just depressing." said Danny as he downed the last of his pastry.

"Well, with nothing else to go on, we'll just have to keep plugging away." said Steve. "Chin, you and Kono go out to Makakilo this morning to question the woman who found the body. She wasn't much help when we first questioned her. Maybe she's calm enough now to remember something that may be of use."

The cousins nodded to acknowledge their marching orders, Kono responding with her usual, "On it, boss." before they hurried off to gather their things and start the trek to the leeward side of the island. At this time of morning, rush hour would be in full-swing. It would probably take twenty minutes just to reach Honolulu city limits.

"The rest of us," continued Steve, "will start . . ." His cell rang before he could finish the sentence. Holding up a finger to signal to Danny and Lou that he'd get back to the conversation, "McGarrett" he answered. Frowning at what he was hearing, he listened another moment then said, "Okay, Duke. We'll be there in ten."

"We've got a new one." announced Five-0's leader before rushing toward the door.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Next update planned for Saturday.**

 **Please review. Think of yourselves as the mirrors on Mae West's bedroom ceiling. When asked why they were there, she answered, "So I can see how I'm doin'."**

 **PS – If you don't know who she was, Google her. She was a woman before her time.**


	6. Detroit

I'm No Angel

Chapter 6

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Detroit**

"Why would anyone want to kill a high school kid?" asked Lou Grover, shaking his head.

"Other than another kid you mean?" asked Danny. "You know that the little bastards can be ruthless these days."

"Too many video games I think." agreed the former SWAT captain as he bent, lifting a corner of the plastic in order to more closely examine the body before covering it again. "Weapons and hormones are a bad mix, man. That's when you windup with stuff like this. In my day, if you had a grudge against someone you just beat the crap out of 'em, you didn't shoot 'em or slit their throat." he said as he straightened carefully; knees giving him hell once again. _Must be the dampness,_ he'd thought upon awakening this morning, without adding the 'old age' part.

"In _your_ day," responded Danny, "People made their own knives out of flint and were still throwing rocks at each other because guns hadn't been invented yet."

Frowning at the Jersey detective, Lou replied, "You musta been talking to my kids. According to them, my 'day' was when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. So, yeah." he shrugged, "Maybe I did throw a few rocks. I was a damned good shot though."

Gallows humor. It's a cop thing. Most people wouldn't understand how they could joke around when a body lay at their feet but, as the saying goes: 'Sometimes you have to laugh so you don't cry.'

It wasn't yet nine am. and sweat was already soaking the collars of their shirts. The fact that a storm was stalking the islands like a great white didn't mean that it was going to get any cooler before it hit . . . if it did. So far, its path had changed numerous times.

This morning, even without the volume turned up on the TV, (because he couldn't find the remote), Danny knew it was going to be another day of nearly intolerable weather. He knew this because the 'meteorologist' on the morning news was wearing one of her skimpier outfits. The ensemble was his favorite and possibly the only good thing to come of his misery at the hands of Mother Nature . . . the bitch.

In any case, they needed to conclude this part of the investigation as quickly as possible. A body lying in the sun is a situation that needs to be remedied sooner rather than later. While Danny and Lou examined the ground around it, Steve was off talking to the guy who'd discovered the victim sprawled on the damp grass of Honua High's playing field.

"This is one of the highest rated high schools in the state if not the entire country." glumly said Danny as he scanned the ground around the body. "I was actually thinking of sending Gracie here."

"Well, times have changed, Toto. Kansas this ain't." replied Grover.

Wondering if Lou's reference to a small dog was a diss to his compact stature, the blonde detective ignored the possible dig to reply, "Nope, not Kansas. Kabul maybe."

"Actually, according to the stats, you'd have better luck surviving in Kabul than in Detroit." said Steve as he walked up to them. "Honolulu is way down on the list of dangerous places to live but maybe we're moving up in the world."

"Not funny, Steven." replied his partner.

"Wasn't trying to be."

"I may have to take my daughter somewhere else to live . . . somewhere safer."

"Good luck with that." snorted Grover.

"I hear that Norway has a crime rate that's almost nil if you don't live in Oslo." said Steve before adding, ( _possibly_ in jest), "You have to mind the polar bears though."

"Stop with your pedantic crap already." declared Danny irritably. He just wanted to get this over with. The killing of one so young is disturbing enough and soon the pleasant scent of newly mown grass would be replaced by the not so pleasant smell of oxidizing blood.

A sudden commotion on the other side of the police tape had them turning toward it. A high pitched wail cut through the thick air along with the stern commands of those trying to prevent whoever it was from rushing forward.

"Ma'am you have to stay back!" they heard one of HPD's uniformed officers order.

"That's my son! I think that's my son! They told me something happened to him!"

"Ma'am . . ."

The distraught mother strained to pull away from those attempting to hold her back.

Steve stood bleakly observing the two uniforms tasked with securing the crime scene. The woman was large though fit looking and had the added strength of a mother who thought her child needed her. They were having a hard time restraining her.

Both Lou and Danny walked quickly toward the beleaguered HPD officers but Steve, as though his feet had taken root along with the grass of the field, watched from a distance.

There's no way he could offer anyone an emotional lifeline right now. He had nothing left to give. The trite, 'I'm sorry for your loss' couldn't and would never cover it. Sometimes it seemed as though he'd been using that phrase for half his life and it was no more effective than it had ever been. He's convinced that no one would ever be comforted by those words.

If he didn't have a job to do, he'd get as far away from here as possible because no matter how hard he fought it, that pernicious darkness that always hovered was once again threatening to engulf him. These days, only thing that made it bearable was Marie. With her, he could forget for at least a few hours that nothing he did would ever make a damned bit of difference. Evil would always win.

The school's soccer coach, (who'd made the grisly discovery), had identified the victim as a member of his freshman team; forlornly adding that Ethan Lozano would probably have been part of Honua's winning varsity next year.

It fell to Lou and Danny to confirm to the distraught woman that the body lying beneath the bright yellow plastic tarp is that of her son. It would have been cruel to prolong the agony of not knowing for sure.

Paramedics had already been called and sedation would be available shortly. The ambulance could be heard pulling up now as a siren cut off in mid-whoop. A young man, who's appearance is an older version of the victim's, was at her side to help lead/carry her to it. Though she was too distraught to answer any questions, Danny managed to get some information from her son before he climbed into the vehicle where his now nearly catatonic mother lay on a stretcher. Both were spirited away to Queen's Medical Center.

With Chin and Kono on the other side of the island, this latest case would be up to the remaining members of Five-0 who went about their work with determined focus. What had started out a shit day didn't look like it was going to improve anytime soon.

Despite there being a corpse on the playing field, classes had convened. In one of the rooms adjacent to the grassy area, they could see faces pressed to the windows before the morbid onlookers were shooed away and the blinds drawn.

The three men questioned anyone who may have had contact with the deceased: students, teachers, administrators, maintenance people, etc.

Morning waned as crimson coated blades of grass darkened to a deep maroon. None too soon, the techs would be zipping the body into a plastic bag to convey it to the ME's office.

After a few more hours of questions with only minimally helpful answers, the victim was revealed to be a likable but generally unremarkable young man. He'd behaved himself reasonably well and was a dutiful if not brilliant student. There seemed no reason on God's green earth why someone would have chosen to murder the poor kid.

They'd learned his father is a steel contractor temporarily working in Central America while his mother sells real estate in Honolulu for an agency specializing in suburban residential properties - most of them outrageously overpriced bungalows.

But other than the usual comments about a young life ending too soon, promise unfulfilled, etcetera, no one had anything much to say. They'd discovered no further information of use in their investigation of Ethan Lozano.

At the end of a long, hot, humid afternoon, they'd nothing more to go on that would aid in the solution of the murder of a fifteen year old boy. It was fucking depressing.

…

"Danny, what did you find out from Max?" asked Steve as they sat eating take-out at the conference table rarely used for anything other than these working meals. Though this didn't qualify as a respite from work, at least it was cooler in here.

"He said the killing was amazingly precise. The jugular had been cleanly severed in one swipe and the kid was practically dead before he hit the ground. As we'd already noted, there didn't look to be any defensive wounds and Max confirmed it."

"Kids aren't usually that neat about their violence." observed Kono who'd returned to HQ along with Chin only an hour ago. "When they off one another it's usually because somebody's really pissed or maybe even to prove they're badass or something equally as stupid. It's not usually so clinical."

They all nodded, some chewing thoughtfully on their sandwiches or slurping down the last of their sodas.

"I say we dig deeper into the boy's parent's doings." said Danny using the heel of his hand to wipe a trace of mustard from his chin.

"It doesn't look like the boy was into anything that would have provided motive to kill him." agreed Steve.

"Yeah," said Lou, "From what we've learned so far, this kid woulda made Beaver Cleaver look like a Hell's Angel."

Kono frowned. "Beaver Cleaver? If that's a real name, brah, it's kind of rude."

The big man rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the others to explain.

"It's the name of a little kid in an old TV show." said Danny. "I think you can watch it on Netflix."

"I think it was from the fifties, cuz. Way before any of us were born . . . except maybe for Lou." supplied Chin with smile directed toward Grover.

Kono shrugged as the others shook their heads at the youngest member of the team.

"Where's the victim's father right now?" asked Steve to get them back on track.

"He's _was_ in Central America." answered Lou who'd ignored the reference to his age. "He's the project manager for an outfit called Pacific Island Steel. They're one of the subcontractors for a big job down there; bridges or some such. It was supposed to be ongoing for several months but he should be home by tonight. Poor guy caught the first available flight when he was informed of his son's death. That's gotta be rough. He'll have hours to think about it on the way back."

Steve unfortunately could relate. He nodded understandingly.

The discussion continued as they finished up the last of their meal. Their leader, appearing to have tuned-out, stared blankly into space while the others discussed the two separate murders.

 _Two. Separate. Murders._

Suddenly sitting up straighter, Five-0's leader asked, "What country was he in?"

"Who?" asked Danny who'd thought his partner had nodded off with his eyes open.

"The Lozano kid's father." replied Steve.

"Honduras." answered Grover, knotting his brow which created furrows even in his scalp.

Steve nodded silently then ordered, "Lou, you start poking around in his employer's connections. See if they have anything to do with Capwell Construction."

"You think the murder of a big-time executive and a high school kid are somehow connected?" asked Danny skeptically.

"It's a longshot but it's possible. We know that Capwell is a big time player in Hawaii's construction industry but maybe it's not just all domestic. We don't know much about Pacific Island Steel but if they're both involved in a project in Honduras, it's definitely something we need to look into."

His team looked at him expectantly; obviously waiting for further explanation. With a put-upon sigh he obliged them: "An increasing part the Honduran economy is tied to the cultivation of poppies. Their harvest could soon rival Afghanistan's which, as you all know, is the world leader in opium production – something like seventy-five to ninety percent of it comes from there. It might be a long shot but there's the possibility of a drug connection of some sort."

"Okay, I get why you might know about poppies in 'the Stan' but how do you know about heroin production in Honduras?" asked Danny.

"It's classified." was the curt answer.

"Of course." snorted his partner.

"You don't think they'd off a boy in Honolulu because of drug trade in Central America, do you?" asked Kono.

"Drug dealers are capable of things we don't even want to think about." reminded Chin.

"Considering the increasing impact illegal drugs have on the economy of that country, it's an avenue we need to pursue. And, if the government there is involved, it's gonna get even messier." said Steve.

They quickly finished the meal that would be sustaining them for several hours to come then scattered to go about the duties assigned them.

As the others scurried away, Danny stood evaluating his friend. "You still look like a shit." he pronounced before walking off as well.

…..

She'd already cleaned the barrel and checked the calibration of the scope. This will be the last one; then she'll be out of here. Though it distressed her to do it this way, it had to be messy this time. Her employer wanted to make a point.

The first two had been done her usual way - neatly. It pained her to do otherwise. Eidolon's trademark was the very preciseness of his/her work. For _this_ they could have hired any thug with a halfway decent aim and a high-powered sniper rifle. Hell, if they want messy, they could get a guy with a machete.

 _I suppose I just shouldn't care so much._ She shrugged as she reassembled the CheyTac. This one would go fast. She didn't like to rush but at least there'd be time for another get together. She'd have to give him a call tonight. Though she knew she was pushing it by hooking up with a cop – the top cop nonetheless - the temptation was too great. The focused physicality of their 'relationship' was somehow therapeutic to mind as well as body.

"Well", she chuckled softly to the empty room, "Maybe not so much for body." She'd found a bed partner as physical and intense as she herself. The bruises on her thighs were still tender. The sailor would most likely be feeling the aftereffects of their latest rendezvous as well.

 _I wonder if he gets anything out of it other than the obvious?_ she mused. _I'm sure he'd have any number of prospects for a hookup – even if not with his girlfriend. The man is not exactly hard on the eyes._

Actually, she'd have a difficult time explaining what _she_ got out of it . . . other than the obvious. McGarrett was different from her usual one-night-stands; more than just the scratching of an itch. After further thought, the best she could come up with was that sex with him was like a storm; the charged contact of their bodies producing fierce, even violent clashes, then in the eye of it, there'd be a sort of . . . . peace . . . before it started again.

 _Weird._

Thinking of it that way was actually kind of disturbing.

...…

An hour ago, Lynn had left in tears. The old 'It's not you, it's me' speech hadn't gone well – as if those conversations ever could. Ending the relationship was the only thing to do; both for her sake and his.

The thing with Marie had become even more intense; both their bodies bearing evidence of it. If his girlfriend had found the scratches and bite marks it would have been even uglier.

No female in her right mind would have accepted the explanation that a relationship with another woman is 'only physical'. Catherine would probably have shot him. Of course, were Ms. Rollins still around, this 'thing' would have never happened to begin with.

At least that's what he told himself.

Other than Danny, his friends had no idea what was going on. They only knew that he'd show up at HQ the next morning looking as though he'd spent the night being tumbled in a dryer filled with ball bearings and cactus.

No one knew that she was his only way to keep the darkness away.

It's like when you're driving alone and thoughts are going round and round in your head until you want to scream and you reach for the volume control on the radio to turn it up loud. Really. Loud.

Loud enough that it drowns out the voices. Loud enough so that the bass pounds through your body. Loud until it pounds right into your soul. Loud . . . until there's nothing left but the music. There's no thought, no feeling, no expectations or disappointments . . . no fear. There's nothing but the music.

It was that way with her. When they were together there was only heated skin and low moans; lips crushed against another's until there was need to breathe.

There was only Marie who needed no one to save her and the sailor who, though he may not know it, needed to be saved.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*


	7. Wandering

I'm No Angel

Chapter 7

 **Posted this a little early. Worked on it while staying up all night because of nearby fires. So far so good. I know there are a few readers who are also near the fires. Good luck to you as well.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Wandering**

Dawn is breathtaking. Darkness had been conquered; transformed by the glorious oranges and pinks in the brindled clouds floating triumphantly above the horizon. It's just fucking gorgeous.

But, while the morning sky is beautiful, it's also a harbinger of unstable weather. Those islanders familiar with the signs, (and who actually pay attention to weather forecasters), are scrambling to fasten down whatever of their possessions could be taken by the wind. Having recognized the possibility of calamity, they're busily laying in supplies for what may come. Canned goods and bottled water are flying off the store shelves as generators are becoming increasingly hard to find.

And then there are those who either don't recognize the signs or are too distracted to notice them. These unfortunate souls are in for rough times.

A storm is coming.

…...…

Morning light invaded his office; slipping through the blinds to stripe the floor. He yawned and leaned back in his chair. Stretching his arms over his head he winced at the pull on the back muscles that hadn't yet completely recovered from his extracurricular workouts.

At least it was cool in here. The warm sticky morning promised to bring heat and humidity never described in any tourist brochure. Even kama aina are complaining. The native-born would surely bet that if climate change deniers were to spend a few hours here today, they'd change their tune. It was so warm and the air so thickened with moisture that being out in it was like sitting in a bowl of soup.

He could hear a news report playing in the main room. Someone, (probably Danny who liked to gawk at KAEO's weather forecaster), had put it up on the big screen.

The story of a student murdered on his high school's soccer field had taken precedence over all others, both local and national. Even the dead CEO had lost his place in the hierarchy of newsworthy events. His story had been relegated to a slot behind coverage of the storm that had been wandering around the Pacific for the past several days. The islands have been experiencing some of its peripheral effects but predictors still aren't sure if Hawaii will end up in the hurricane's direct path. In any case, they're giving tips on how to batten down the hatches should it hit dead-on.

Five-0, like all of the island's first responders, is prepared for the storm but it didn't hurt to double check. He'd gone over the inventory of the state issued supplies and had augmented them. He doubts that some of his additions would be approved of but they may come in handy.

It was barely 0730 but the governor had already called. Denning's quote: 'Put the Capwell thing on hold for now. The case of a murdered child is to supersede all others!'

He hadn't yet told the man of a possible connection between the two killings. They'd save that one for later.  
...

Hours of staring at airport surveillance video, mostly images of gaudily dressed tourists wearing leis and hopeful expressions as they disembarked at HNL had yielded naught.

"I know looks can be deceiving but of the people we picked-out as possible suspects only a couple of 'em turned out to be less than legit." said Danny wearily. The entire team had arrived early to finish watching the last of the airport security video.

"We've already run what seems like a thousand possibles through facial rec and come up with nada." sighed Lou Grover. "Besides, who are we even looking for? No one knows what this Eidolon guy looks like."

Stifling a yawn Kono added."The only thing that broke the monotony was that idiot who thought he could smuggle in prohibited animals."

Eyes crinkling, Chin responded, "Strangely, stuffing ferrets in his pants didn't quite work out for him."

"It's a good thing he drugged the little bastards first or they'd a bitten his nuts off." snorted Grover. "As it is, I bet the idiot's gonna to be sleeping on his back for a month."

The sight of airport security cops chasing the smuggler through the terminal after he'd screeched bloody murder and dropped trou at the arrival gate had been entertaining.

Added Grover with a straight face, "If one of those little critters hadn't had the chemical tolerance of Keith Richards and woke up to claw his way out, the guy coulda made himself some serious _scratch_."

"I can't believe you said that, brah." said Kono, shaking her head at the man who looked pleased with himself.

The ferret guy had been one of the very few anomalies they'd observed among the scores who'd traveled through Honolulu International Airport over the last month. The monotony of watching hours of electronic surveillance was boring enough, then talking about the results of doing so - essentially nothing - was squirm inducing. Kono, much too like her boss, wasn't all that good at sitting still. She sighed loudly and began to restlessly spin a pen round and round on the slick surface of the conference table by ticking it with a nail.

The sound of it getting on his nerves, Steve brusquely snatched it up, giving Kono a glare before addressing his team. "We've gotta double-down now." he snapped. "We don't have time to crap around. If it turns out that cartels are somehow part of this, the body count could go higher."

Kono so wanted to bite back at her boss for being the target of his ire but she managed to keep her mouth shut . . . barely.

"Before I forget . . . ," said Chin hoping to provide distraction, "We got a call from the kid's mother. She wants to know if we found one of those braided bracelets. It seems she'd helped him make one for his girlfriend but he never got the chance to give it to her. She wants to know if she can get it back so she can give it to the girl."

Sadness immediately flashed over everyone's faces. Sometimes it was the these small things that reminded them that one now called 'the victim, or 'the decedent' had actually been a living, breathing, person rather than just another case added to their workload.

"I saw something about a length of braided cording listed on the evidence report. It was in the belongings found when they processed his pockets." volunteered Grover.

"I've gotta go talk to Max anyway." said Steve, "I don't see any harm in returning it to the mother. I'll pick it up when I'm there. Chin and Kono can give it to her when they go question her again."

"Boss, I really don't think Mrs. Lozano has anything more . . ." began Kono.

"It's not up for discussion." snapped Steve. "Take the damned bracelet with you when you go re-interview her."

Expression becoming as stony as that of the man giving the order, Kono nodded her head once. "Sure." she said.

"While you two are doing that, Danny and I will go back to Capwell. If we can't get anyone there to be more cooperative than they have been, I'll fucking shake the information out of them." Rising from his seat he stalked off; footsteps fading down the hallway.

As though it had been rehearsed, the cousins glanced at one another then looked at Danny. "Better you than us, brah!" they simultaneously exclaimed.

"Cowards." snorted the detective.

"Sheesh." said Grover, "Who the hell peed in his granola?"

"He's a little on edge, don't you think?" asked Chin.

"A _little_?" snorted the tall black man.

"Do something, brah." said Kono.

"Hey, I didn't set him off!" defended the partner of the strangely irascible man.

"Not this time." chorused all three of his teammates though not quite in the synchronized way the cousins had previously managed.

"And we know it's not on Kono either." frowned Chin. Steve had been unnecessarily curt with his cousin.

He'd never worked for anyone more 'in control' than Steve McGarrett. Sure, the man could tear you a new one if it was deserved but he didn't usually have to. With just a look, (the one Danny called 'The SEAL Death Glare'), he could intimidate pretty much anyone into compliance. The man had his moments but he'd never been pissy. Chin Ho Kelly wasn't usually flustered by anything their leader did, no matter how drastic it may seem at the time, but McGarrett was seriously in danger of disturbing his zen.

"He's been a little off lately." sighed Danny. "Maybe it's the heat."

When all looked at him questioningly, he said, "Just be patient and cut him some slack for the moment. If it gets out of hand, I'll talk to him."

"Yeah, well, we're holding you to that promise, brah." replied Kono as Chin and Lou nodded in agreement.

...

He knew he'd been an ass. _It's just that . . ._ He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. _Okay, I'm probably gonna to have to apologize_.

He can't offer any excuse for his behavior because then he'd have to make one up. Best to just say 'sorry' and be done with it. Things have gotten far too complicated lately and it won't help matters to compound it. When this is over, maybe he'll put in for some time-off. Even he himself realized he was on a hair-trigger lately. He definitely had to get it under control before it affected his work.

The drive to the Medical Examiner's office was nearly shorter than it should have been. His wandering mind failed to register that the vehicle ahead had come to a sudden stop. Slamming on the brakes, his truck's tires squealed on the asphalt.

The Silverado's bumper had come within an inch of merging with the rear of a large yellow van bearing the name of a local cab service. Filled with passengers wearing towels around their necks and clutching water bottles as though they'd been at the gym, its driver was in process of claiming a rare parking spot at the curb in front of a popular restaurant.

Earning a hand gesture from the cabby and returning it with a gesture of half-apology, half fuck-off, he changed lanes to drive a bit slower and with more distance between his truck and the car ahead of it. Muttering to himself about how a traffic accident would only confirm to his annoying partner that his head was indeed up his ass, he resumed his journey.

Danny was right about something else as well. As he'd stated, it wasn't like him to not thoroughly check out those with whom he'd be having ongoing contact. But was his 'thing' with Marie to be ongoing? He wouldn't bet on it. The sex was great but there was something that wasn't quite right and he'd ignored it for too long. Where did she get her skills? The woman had escaped from a second floor bedroom after being so incredibly quick in making it look as though she'd never been there; even setting the scene to back-up the story he'd told Lynn. What kind of experience did she have that made her so good at it?

Perhaps he'll just have to admit to himself that the mystery held in those dark eyes was part of her allure. Whatever it was that drew him to her, it wouldn't let him go. This inexplicable desire to be with her had prompted him to do something he'd never done in his entire life – dishonor a commitment. Everything in him is telling him it's wrong and it needs to stop but it's somehow beyond him to end it.

With a frustrated sigh, he took a hand off the wheel to drag it through through his hair then let it slip down to grip the back of his neck. Now, in addition to the soreness and exhaustion he was getting a headache. Wonderful.

Since Cath had left, he'd bedded several women and though he hadn't contacted them afterward he did at least know their names. The one-night stands had ended with his promise of exclusivity to Lynn. She'd wanted it and, to be honest, he didn't have a problem agreeing to the arrangement. There was a kind of relief to declare it so. But he knew she wasn't 'the one'. He'd already met that woman, spent years in a committed relationship with her, then had it all go to hell. He couldn't do that again. It still stung.

Lynn had been someone who fulfilled most of the requirements: smart, attractive, funny, good in bed. He was probably lucky to have found her. Of course, that was all neither here nor there at this point considering that he'd officially ended their relationship.

Marie was somehow different. He has no idea if she's a good or bad person; he only knows that he's inexplicably drawn to her like she's some sort of addiction. And like an addict, he doesn't care where the drug comes from, he just needs to know which vein to use.

I'm so fucking pathetic! He shook his head and sighed as he guided the big blue truck along the streets of Honolulu.

There were two reasons for this visit to the Medical Examiner's office. The first was to pick up that bracelet to give to Chin and Kono to take with them. Joyce Lozano had to have additional information about her husband's business dealings but the poor woman hadn't been in any shape to answer questions. Now that a couple days have passed she may be able to provide something that could be helpful.

The second reason is in the paper bag on the seat next to him. Getting it checked out couldn't hurt. All he knew about Marie is that she'd grown up in Quebec and that she's here for some sort of job. He didn't even know her last name. She'd never told him and, when he was with her, he'd been much too distracted to ask. He could barely remember his own name when they . . .

Just in time, he stood on the brake to avoid running into the car ahead of him.

 _Shit! What the hell is wrong with me?_ he wondered for what seemed the hundredth time.  
...

She realizes that not everyone is lucky enough to have a job that's satisfying and pays so handsomely - at least half-paid anyway. The rest would be forthcoming as soon as the work is completed. They wouldn't dare to stiff her for the balance of the fee. Those macho assholes are afraid of her.

 _My rep is good enough to put fear into the fearless!_ she laughed to herself.

Long graceful fingers slid out the bolt mechanism as she hummed a song she'd learned long ago. She didn't know more than a few words of it but her mother had used it to soothe her when she'd been afraid. Too many times she'd run to maman's room in the middle of the night seeking comfort when hands reached toward her in the darkness. At that young age her mind couldn't discern dream from reality. But soon, the monsters lurking in the dark were to become all too real.

Disgust and loathing suddenly flashed through her . . . then fierce anger. Her pale skin flushed at the intensity. "Those days are long gone, maman!" she spat aloud into the empty room.

Marie Colette Roux had survived the worst and come out stronger. There is no fear in her now. Those who'd made her afraid so many years ago are long dead.

Taking a deep calming breath she slowly let it out as the blaze subsided and her skin cooled. It took a few more such breaths before the flame was dampened once again to a small, barely glowing, ember.

She didn't remember dropping the bolt onto the carpet. Bending to pick it up she resumed her task with a steady hand and began to croon softly once again. No one would ever make her afraid again.

No one would dare.

...

The chill of the Medical Examiner's office felt good. In just the short walk from the parking lot, sweat had dampened his shirt. Now, as it dried in the air-conditioned room the fabric was cold against his skin.

"Why, yes, Commander, I have the belongings right here." said Max picking up a clear plastic bag from the shelf behind him and holding it up for his visitor to see. It contained a jumble of things but the object he'd come for wasn't visible.

"Is there a bracelet in there? The braided kind?" asked Steve

As the medical examiner opened the big zip-up baggie, the smell of stale blood wafted from it. Five-0's commander automatically began to breathe through his mouth while Max just as automatically ignored the disturbing odor.

The ME pulled out stained clothing and set it aside. With a gloved hand he fished among the smaller things that had settled at the bottom of the bag. A moment later the pathologist exclaimed, "Aha!" and triumphantly held up a short, colorful, length of braided cording. "This must be the item you're seeking."

Nodding affirmatively as he took the bracelet, Steve answered, "His family called to see if we could get it back to them. The kid had made it for his girlfriend the night before he'd been killed. His mother wants to give it to her because he won't be able to."

"That's very sad." said Max sincerely with his usual robotic cadence. Five-0's leader no longer even noticed it. The quirks of the eccentric little man who'd long ago found his place in Five-0's ohana were of no mind.

"Max, there's something else that I need you to look into." said Steve; troubled hazel eyes gazing sincerely into dark curious ones. He picked up the paper bag he'd set onto the table when he'd entered the room.

The medical examiner had seen it and suspected there was something the commander needed done with its contents but hadn't asked. He knew it would be addressed.

Handing it to his friend, Steve said, "Max, I need you to run the DNA on this water bottle. You can check for prints as well but I'm pretty sure there's nothing there. It's . . . it could be from a case we're working but I'm not sure yet. See if it matches anything in CODIS or Interpol's database. Just let me know whatever you come up with, okay? Oh, and keep it just between you and me for now."

The M.E. nodded solemnly. "Of course." he replied. He'd kept other such information private for his friend in the past. He'd once tested a DNA sample that could have confirmed a suspected familial match to Commander McGarrett's most virulent enemy, (thankfully, the results had proven negative).

No one would ever learn of this from him. Max Bergman is a man of his word.

As they spoke, the M.E. began to gather up the things he'd removed from the evidence bag while searching for the bracelet. One of them was a stained lightweight windbreaker bearing the image of the decedent's school mascot – a not terribly fierce looking wild boar. The name 'Honua High Tuskers' is perhaps intimidating but a smiling pig with what look like overgrown lower canines isn't. The poorly thought out illustration had immediately resulted in rivals tagging them with other porcine inspired names: oinkers, pork chops, bacon beaters, etcetera. Many are wagering on how long it will take before the school changes mascots. As he and the commander discussed the subject, Max picked up the jacket to stuff it back into the evidence bag.

In the puff of air displaced when the cloth was compacted into the big plastic baggie, Steve became aware of another scent. With lightning speed his hand shot out to grip the ME's wrist to stop him from completing the task.

Max froze in place; brow gathered in puzzlement as he observed Five-0's commander lean forward to carefully sniff the jacket.

Drawing back slowly, Steve stared blankly for a brief moment before his eyes widened. Looking rattled, he stuffed the bracelet into his pocket and called out a thanks over his shoulder as he hurried toward the door.

Staring after the departing figure, "Strange." commented the man literally left holding the bag. He shrugged and finished stuffing the windbreaker back into it. It would be returned to its place on the shelf beside the recently gathered evidence from the CEO's murder. Max Bergman kept an orderly lab. Nothing would ever go astray here as things had infamously done in other such facilities not helmed by someone so meticulous. Never.

He knew there needed to be a signed release form for the bracelet but he wasn't worried. Steve was obviously in a hurry and it could be obtained at a later date. Commander McGarrett is the most trustworthy of men.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **All comments are welcome. Next update in about five days or so. A little whump and a lot of angst is coming.**


	8. Sideways

I'm No Angel

Chapter 8

 **Very happy that you're still reading. Thank you.**

 **Disclaimer: Only plot and OC's are mine.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Sideways**

Taking her time, she likened the task to that of an artist caring for his or her favorite brushes. But after reconsidering the analogy she thought, _Nah_. Artists can be such pigs. Some, in more ways than just being messy.

She'd ignored the three calls. There won't be time for him until the job is done. He's the only one who has the number of the disposable phone she's using for personal calls - 'disposable' being the operative word. As soon as she leaves the island, both the phone and McGarrett are no longer needed. Right now, she needs to focus on the task at hand.

After applying a coat of protectant essential in this humidity, she reassembled the parts and loaded the 5 round magazine. But, despite her best intentions, her thoughts were drawn back to the sailor.

Snooping at his headquarters had proven only minimally useful. It had been risky to open the digital case files. The man is much too vigilant and there'd been only a brief moment to read them while he was neatening up his office after the mess they'd made of it. She hadn't even completely closed down the high-tech computer table before he'd entered the main room. There was a bit of worry that he'd notice but she'd managed to distract him . . . again. Anyway, with several others working out of the same office, they'd probably just suspect one another of leaving it unsecured.

It's too bad she wasn't going to be on the island longer. She could have made good use of her connection to the leader of the Governor's Special Task Force. Any information gathered could prove useful down the road.

Running the oiled cloth caressingly over the barrel one last time, she knitted her brow. What was it about the man? He's like some sort of strange addiction. Yes, that's it, she nodded to herself . . . like candy. And who doesn't like candy, no?

She sighed as she sighted through the scope one last time before packing her equipment back into its case. It would be a shame to put a bullet into that lovely hide.

….

He wasn't aware that the oldest part of the human brain, (the part responsible for the most visceral of reactions), had been triggered. While steering with one hand Steve reached into his pocket to pull out the braided cord that had been in the evidence bag with the jacket. He brought it to his nose. The blood smell had faded but the other was even more noticeable. If you were to ask him what flower or spice it brought to mind he couldn't tell you. He only knew that it immediately summoned only one image.

Thoughts in turmoil, he drove toward the palace.

...

Danny had hoped to spend the entire day indoors with the AC cranked up as high as it would go but, alas, Steve had dashed that hope. The bastard was going to drag him out into the heat of downtown Honolulu. They'd be going to re-interview those dickheads at Capwell. He imagines Chin and Kono aren't going to be any happier to be out in this disgusting weather. Though the native Hawaiians had grown up in the humidity of the islands, he doubted they were accustomed to the current level of mugginess. Danny likened it having had a sopping woolen blanket thrown over his head then being told to just ignore it and go on about his business. He wanted Steve dead – or at least maimed somewhat.

The transplanted Jersey detective wasn't the only one who'd been affected. The storm still out there gathering power was beginning to set _everyone_ on edge. Its threat and the humidity generated by its proximity resulted in short-tempered reactions to what would have been previously ignored. The restiveness of the normally laid-back citizenry had created a heavy workload for local law enforcement. Nighttime brought a free-for-all of domestic disputes that spilled over into morning. Even before daylight, cops had been called to break up a fights at residences, gas stations, convenience stores, and fast food drive-throughs. People are cranky.

Danny had always complained about Hawaii's weather and, for once, the rest of the team had to agree with their disagreeable detective. All were hoping to do most of their work indoors but, of course, their boss had other plans.

Everyone was poised to dive into the cloying atmosphere that threatened to turn the island into a sweaty war zone. But the gods had other plans for Hawaii's preeminent officers of the law.

Most of HPD had been called out to work crowd control for a large and hopefully peaceful protest gathering on the other side of the city. Lou Grover commented that anyone who cared enough about their cause to be out in weather like this deserved, if not everyone's support, then a free psych eval, and a slurpee.

There'd really been no time for the authorities to gear-up. The impromptu event had formed almost magically after yesterday's announcement of yet another of the current administration's nearly unfathomable decrees. Most of HPD's available personnel had been dispatched to keep watch so that it didn't get out of hand which resulted in a drastically reduced police presence on this side of town. It meant that personnel not usually assigned to field duty would be pressed into service and that Five-0 would be on-call for backup.

Whether its cause was the heat, the humidity, the exhaustion, or just lack of attention, no one saw what was coming. Well, someone should have but didn't

Everything was about to go sideways.

...

McGarrett had done this dozens if not hundreds of times in the military as well as with Five-0: his team keeps the hostiles distracted so they can be flanked and taken by surprise.

It should have been simple – well as simple as it can be while people are trying to shoot you.

The HPD officers who'd first rolled on the call were barely more than file clerks pressed into service at the last minute. One of the four had graduated from the academy only a few days prior and another had to be the oldest, fattest, wheeziest cop McGarrett had ever seen. But the old guy had the smarts to know they needed to call for assistance.

Responding as back-up, Five-0's leader had quickly assessed the situation and taken over; not that he wouldn't have as a matter of course. Though it usually worked out for the best, it had always been a sore point for those members of the Honolulu Police Department who'd never been won over by the intense SEAL's 'charm'.

The robbers appeared to be just amateur stick-up artists having a bad day that, if they kept going as-is, would surely end in incarceration or death. One of the jewelry shop's employees had managed to trigger the silent alarm and the dimwits hadn't caught on until there were actually cops outside. When they spotted the blue and whites pulling up on the street in front of the shop they'd panicked and run pell-mell; their haul abandoned in a glittery pile on the floor.

"Moving!" declared Steve as he popped up, exposing himself to fire. He knew that Kono's shots from the cover of a mailbox across the street would keep the shooter pinned behind the cement pillar supporting the building's portico. Despite several attempts to get him to surrender, the guy wasn't giving up.

The light bars on HPD's patrol cars strobed away at an empty street. Other than cops and criminals, the thoroughfare was deserted. Even before the sound of gunfire alerted pedestrians to head for the hills, they'd abandoned the sidewalks for air-conditioned bars and hotel rooms until evening brought hopefully cooler temperatures.

He could hear Danny's H & K barking out rounds behind him while Lou and Chin made their own deafening contributions. The second robber had been pinned behind a dumpster in a short dead-end alley next to the building. The guy had nowhere to go and should have known it but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He was also not a very good shot.

"Lou! Move!" ordered Steve as it was Lou's turn to advance while the others provided covering fire.

The sound of gunfire echoed up and down the empty street for another couple of minutes. After one more round of cover-and-advance, overwhelmed by the barrage, robber number one went down and stayed there. Pillar guy is history.

Now concentrating his fire on the one in the alley whose time was sure to be short as well, Five-0's commander shouted out, "Surrender or you're dead! You've got nowhere to go and there are lots of us out here just waiting for you to run out of ammo!"

After a pause for consideration that should have taken far less time, robber number two yelled back, "Doan shoot! I geeve!"

"Throw out your gun then come out hands up!" ordered Steve.

This guy, who had a keener survival instinct than his late companion, tossed his piece onto the ground in front of the dumpster. He followed it with visibly shaking hands raised over his head.

"Down on your belly! Arms out to the side!" ordered Five-0's leader.

Again, the young man complied. Assuming the position with a practiced speed that indicated he'd had occasion to perform this action in the past, he flattened himself onto the hot pavement.

While Steve kept his gun trained on the shooter, Danny, not taking any chances, knelt atop the still trembling youth to cuff him. When he yelped as his arms were pulled roughly behind him, the detective barked, "Shut up! You're lucky you're not dead, you little schmuck!"

Now that the second shooter was in cuffs, Steve checked on the first guy who lay face-up beside the dumpster; his pupils so dilated they nearly crowded out the color surrounding them. Automatically kicking away the dead man's gun, Five-0's leader called out the all-clear. Everyone let out a breath; their weapons dropping to their sides as they moved toward him.

But there was a third man, well, a boy . . . an incredibly stupid boy.

He popped up from behind a rack of gaudy shirts set-up next door in an open-front shop. When he fired off a round everyone immediately dropped or took cover but not before a bullet had found a mark. He wasn't even necessarily aiming, just pulling the trigger over and over while pointing the barrel in the general direction of the cops.

As Steve ducked and returned fire there was a surprised grunt behind him. He couldn't turn to see who'd been hit - the shooter meant business. Behind him he heard someone call out "Officer down!"

There was no time to negotiate a ceasefire. No time to know that the one popping off round after round wasn't yet even old enough to drive and, from inexperience or just plain stupidity, thought he could shoot his way out of a hopeless situation. And, if the normally sure-footed SEAL hadn't stumbled on an ill-maintained walkway, a nanosecond of instability throwing off his aim, the round might have hit the kid somewhere else. But it didn't. All became silent while gunsmoke rose to cloud the already thickened air.

Time had ceased for the youth who died on a miserably hot and humid day in Paradise.

This time, making sure threat had been neutralized, they cautiously moved toward the storefront. A trickle of red seeped from beneath the wooden waist-high partition separating the shop from the sidewalk.

Danny, the first to go behind the partition to see what had been wrought, muttered, "Shit."

Amid bits of tattered fabric – all that was left of a rack of shirts - lay a boy - sixteen at most. Curled on his side with his outstretched hand still clutching the gun, a crimson ribbon trailed from the puddle beneath his head

It would later prove to have been Steve's round that had found its target - another stone to be added to the massive weight threatening to sink him once again beneath dark waters. Even though the kid had every intent to kill someone, he was still just a kid who'd barely celebrated sixteen years on this earth.

After a thorough check, Danny called out another "Clear!". This time it was the truth.

Finally getting the chance to see who'd been hit, Steve whirled to see Lou on the asphalt between two bullet ridden vehicles used for cover. Chin and a bleeding Kono were leaning over him. Stomach clenched like a fist, his inner voice immediately shouted. _This is your fault!_

"We're good here." said Danny to his partner; face grim as he holstered his Sig. "You can go check on Lou."

Without looking behind the partition, Steve turned to jog back toward his downed teammate, "How bad?" he barked as he rushed to stand over them. Kono who was attending to Lou appeared to have only a small trickle of blood dripping from her hairline.

"He's good." immediately replied Chin. "And Kono only got nicked."

"Good my ass!" gritted out the large man as he struggled to sit up. "Somebody just drilled a hole in me! That's not good! That's not even adjacent to good! Chin, you been hangin' around with McGarrett too long!"

"Welcome to my world." snorted Danny who'd trotted up to them, the bloody scene at the clothing store having now been secured by the HPD file clerks.

Obviously distressed that he'd screwed up by calling out a premature all-clear, Five-0's leader ran his hand through sweat-soaked hair, declaring, "Damn! I'm sorry, Lou. It's my fault. I didn't see the guy in the store."

"Shit happens, man." said Grover, batting at the hand Kono had clamped on his wound to slow the bleeding. "Ow, woman!" he yelped as she refused to let him deter her.

"Shit like this _shouldn't_ happen!" bit out Steve. "If I hadn't fucked-up neither you nor Kono would have been injured!"

"Boss, I'm ok. I got clipped early-on by a chip of concrete." said Kono who'd immediately recognized the self-loathing in her leader's voice.

Danny merely frowned. Both men were right. Shit does indeed happen but never like that to Steve. He'd never failed to account for everyone before calling out an all-clear. Even wounded and bleeding himself, he'd made sure that no one else lurked to do harm before declaring it safe for his team and other law enforcement to let down their guards.

The bus had already been on its way. The same guy who'd been smart enough to call for backup had immediately realized that with Five-0's involvement it would most likely be prudent to have one on scene.

After the EMT's had made their temporary patches, Lou groaned when the gurney he was lying on was jostled while being loaded. He'd never before been injured badly enough in the line of duty that it required he leave the scene in an ambulance. This would really upset Renee. He needed to call her himself rather than wait for her to be notified by anyone else that he'd had his ass hauled off to Queen's. Unfortunately, his head had begun to swim and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

Face scrunched-up in pain he said, "Guess the odds caught up with me. This is the first time I had to ride the bus away from a throwdown."

"Well, our first times are always special, aren't they?" said Kono as she hopped into the back of the ambulance to accompany her teammate to Queen's Medical Center. She smiled down at the ashen ex-SWAT captain as the doors were closed and the vehicle immediately sped off; siren blaring.

Though trying to make light of what had occurred she's actually thinking, _What the hell happened with Steve? How could he fuck-up like that?!_

...

A litany of failure went round and round in his head as they sped toward Queens Medical Center. _How the hell could_ _I_ _have let this happen? This had been totally preventable!_

With every fiber he wanted to wind back the clock to the moment before he'd called out the all-clear. He should have checked the shops on both sides of the jewelry store. His lack of focus had nearly gotten Lou and even Kono killed. As leader, he's responsible for keeping his team safe. Now, two of its members had paid the price for his screw-up.

Everything was turning to shit. There was a constant weight on his chest . . . on his whole being, and he was beginning to feel as though he couldn't breathe. Even the sky seemed to be pressing down as heavy black clouds gathered overhead like troops assembling before launching an assault.

 _I've gotta get out of here. I have to leave before I can't keep it together any longer!_

He knew Danny was watching him but he hadn't yet said anything. Even the man of a thousand words had not one to say about about how badly he'd screwed-up.

...

Danny had only to observe how tightly his partner clenched his jaw to know that any attempt to engage him in conversation right now would come to nought. Steve was blaming himself.

He hated to think it but perhaps Steve _should_ be blaming himself. This was a major fuck-up.

Never before had their leader failed to thoroughly check for hidden dangers before declaring it safe for his team to stand down. The guy was a machine when it came to things like that.

Pulse finally returning to normal he'd tried to take a deep breath but tensed muscles wouldn't yet allow it. The firefight had been harrowing and a friend had nearly come face to face with the Grim Reaper. If that kid had been a better shot, they wouldn't be following an ambulance, they'd be driving behind a hearse.

The concerned detective suspected that something more than just the tiredness resulting from tail-chasing was responsible for Steve's nearly fatal slip-up. Something hadn't been right for a while now. The signs were there: the haggard appearance, the temper, the sudden deployments to mysterious locations , . . . the distraction. He wanted to bring it up but he knew his partner needed something more than a chat on the beach and a couple bottles of beer.

For the moment, Danny Williams was a silent passenger in a car driven by a silent man whose mind was screaming loud enough to drown out the amps of a death metal band.

...

She'd shown up within minutes of the arrival of the ambulance. One of Lou's former colleagues had contacted her even before she'd gotten the call from Danny. Apparently, the HPD informant had also given an account of exactly _how_ the former SWAT captain had come to be wounded.

After Lou had been sedated and was on his way to surgery, she'd sought out the one she felt was responsible for her husband's injury.

Having been married to a cop for many years, Renee Grover wasn't usually one to freak-out. But she was pissed. Really. Pissed. And she put the blame squarely on the man who'd mistakenly called out the all-clear.


	9. Fierce

I'm No Angel

Chapter 9

 **Thank you to all who are continuing to read this story. A special thank you to those who were kind enough to review the previous chapter. I will shortly be replying to your comments. To those who added this to their favorites or follows, please know that it's much appreciated and serves to encourage an insecure writer.**

 **Disclaimer: Only the plot, OC's, and errors are mine.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Fierce**

Steve sat staring blankly. He wasn't slumped dejectedly, he wasn't leaned back in his chair as though resting, he sat ramrod straight; gazing at nothing.

The commotion had died down nearly an hour ago but it still still echoed in his head. Her words were angry and many. " _What the hell!"_ was what she'd opened with. The rest was a torrent serving to confirm his own conviction that he'd failed to protect his team. He had no excuse – not that he'd even try to give one.

He knew that his inattention had nearly gotten her husband killed and, if she'd let him, he'd acknowledge it and try to apologize but she hadn't given him a chance. After the last of her tirade, eyes filled with tears, Renee Grover had about-faced and stormed off before he could reply. The furious woman hadn't reamed him out in front of the others but the confrontation had been loud. Everyone at Queen's Medical Center had to have heard it.

He felt her condemnation was deserved. And contrary to the popular saying, misery doesn't love company.

If he couldn't physically remove himself from here, he could at least create isolation of another sort. His silence and posture made it clear that he didn't want to interact with anyone. He may as well have surrounded himself with a brick wall. No one approached him.

...

Knowing that his cousin's injury appeared minor - needing nothing more than glue or a steri-strip - Chin had stayed behind. HPD had already taken the surviving robber into custody which left him to deal with the fallout of a gun battle resulting in injury and fatality. The paperwork would be horrendous.

The team's statements could be given at the hospital. Duke would be sending someone to take them and to collect service weapons for forensics.

Once he'd handled all he could at the scene, the Hawaiian cop would be on his way to Queen's to see how Lou was faring and to check on the rest of them. He knew that Steve had to be kicking himself but, after his initial reaction, Five-0's leader had been as impassive as an Easter Island monolith. The error that resulted in the wounding of a colleague was serious and disturbing - especially to the one responsible for keeping his team safe - (and who _felt_ responsible for the safety of pretty much everyone else on the island). This was going to be a tough one for McGarrett.

For a while now, Chin had a feeling that all was not well with his friend. Besides being abnormally short-tempered and showing up mornings looking as though he'd never actually slept, he'd been unusually quiet and pensive. Something was going on with Five-0's leader that had to be sorted out. Another incident like today and . . .

Chin sighed and with the back of his wrist swiped at the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. He signed the last form before handing it to the uniformed officer waiting for it.

Sweat-soaked shirt clinging to him as though he'd been standing under a waterfall he looked up to see dark clouds beginning to clot at the edges of the sky. If that storm ever did show-up it would mean a break in this heat but he wouldn't wish for its arrival. He'd been through Hurricane Iniki. He was barely more than a kid at the time but he remembered all the damage it had caused. Little did he know that storm damage would turn out to be the more minor of his ohana's worries.

...

Cool and inviting, the Surgery Waiting Room was divided in half by a short wall topped with a greenery filled planter. Five-0's leader sat on one side of it and on the other side sat his team. In the chair between Danny and Chin was a patched-up Kono appearing only slightly worse-for-wear. The only evidence of injury was a small bandaid on her forehead just below the hairline.

The remodeled Surgery Waiting Room was actually comfy. Gone was the harsh lighting, the uncomfortable chairs, and the worn linoleum. A hot/cold water dispenser had been placed in one corner and over it an HD screen displayed the status of the surgical candidates. Names and case numbers glowed in various colors as he or she was moved through the process. The various stages: Intake, Pre-Op, Surgery, PACU, and Room Assignment or Release, were color coded. As L Grover #3364 changed from amber, (Pre-Op), to red, (Surgery), all eyes other than Steve's looked to the screen.

The hospital volunteer whom Kono had silently dubbed 'The Waiting Room Nazi' introduced herself as Helen. It was her job to keep things/people under control so that all went smoothly for those awaiting the results of friends and loved one's surgeries.

Though the guardian of the waiting area looked to be anywhere between seventy and a hundred-years old, her startlingly bright eyes are fierce and watchful as a raptor's.

After instructing the team on waiting room protocol and procedure; she made sure they understood what the colors on the screen meant. She took particular care to advise/warn them that relatives shouldn't stray too far in case the doctor needed to speak with them.

If animals had been allowed into the facility, Danny was sure that anyone who dared spend too long in the cafeteria would be hunted down by dogs. Chin had already been chastised for daring to plug his cell-phone charger into an 'unauthorized' outlet rather than the official charging station that sat atop her desk.

Helen is to be feared.

Across from he and the others Renee Grover sat in tired silence. She'd had her say. Her fury was spent. Though she wasn't sitting at attention, she stared off into space much like the target of her wrath. Earlier, Steve had been pulled into an alcove further down the hallway where she let him have it with both barrels. The woman had been intense.

Danny stood and crossed the few steps to stand in front of her. When he'd called Renee to tell her of her husband's injury he hadn't given any of the details but shortly thereafter, a former colleague of the SWAT captain had contacted her to fill her in on what had happened. Once again, Steve's sometime acrimonious relationship with members of Honolulu PD had come back to bite him on the ass.

When Mrs. Grover had arrived, the woman was in no mood for words other than the ones used to inquire about her husband but she'd stored away others for specific use. After Lou had been whisked away to surgery Renee immediately confronted Steve to unleash a barrage that left no doubt as to her feelings toward Five-0's commander. Though this castigation had taken place where it couldn't be seen, it could certainly be heard.

"Renee . . ." began Danny hesitantly as he looked down at the weary looking woman.

"I know, I know." she sighed putting up a hand. "I shouldn't have unloaded on your boss like that. He didn't deserve to be yelled at on top of everything else. I'm sure he feels bad enough about what happened to Lou."

"Yes, he does. I know for a fact that he feels awful." said Danny as he sat down next to her. "Even before you, um, talked to him, he was already beating himself up." The detective ran a hand over his face then back through his hair before he slumped onto the padded upholstery.

"What the hell happened, Danny? Steve has always done everything he can to keep his people safe. Lou says he's the best of the best. How could he call an all-clear when there was still a threat?"

"He just didn't see the other shooter. I mean, sometimes stuff happens no matter how careful you are. I should have been more watchful as well because I didn't see the little jerk until he popped up and started shooting. It was an off-day for Steve as well as the robbers . . . and Lou. In any case, it's _never_ going to happen again. Steve won't allow it. He'll be even _more_ vigilant, and paranoid than he already is. The man would rather die himself before allowing any of us to be injured. This was a total anomaly for Steve, a first, and it's unfortunate that Lou had to be the sacrificial lamb."

Renee raised her green-gold eyes to his and chuffed. "Lou? Sacrificial maybe. Lamb never."

They sat silently for another few moments watching the screen above them as 'L GROVER #3364' continued to glow red.

Taking her gaze away from the display, Renee said, "Lou had mentioned that Steve seemed off. He was becoming concerned and, I quote, 'Steve looks like something the cat would rather bury in a litter box than drag in'. With a faint smile Renee added, "As you know, my husband has a way with words."

Danny nodded. "That he does and it's a fairly accurate description I'd say." Five-0's second in command had pretty much thought the same.

After stealing a glance at the man still sitting so stiffly on the other side of the divider Renee acknowledged, "I guess he does look kind of beat." Then, after only a short pause, she said angrily, "But, goddamit, he almost got Lou killed! That's just not acceptable!" Once again her eyes flashed fire but it quickly dampened.

Danny waited beside her. He knew that Rachel would have felt the same if he'd been shot due to a teammate's error. Though they were no longer married to one another, if he'd been wounded after a botched all-clear, the 'delicate English rose' would have made mincemeat of his partner.

After a few more minutes, Renee had calmed completely. After chewing contemplatively on her lip she nodded and said, "I know there must be a reason for what happened. Lou's told me more than once that Steve is one of the toughest, smartest and maybe craziest guys he's ever met but he trusts him completely."

Danny acknowledged her statement with a small smile and nod. Again, the description of his partner is accurate.

"Look, Renee; I know Steve feels like crap over this. He knows he screwed-up. I think the man needs some downtime to sort stuff out. I'm not making excuses for him but he's got some things to work through."

"Maybe I should apologize for going off on him like that." sighed Renee.

"I don't think you need to." said Danny who could see that someone from HPD had come to collect Steve's SIG. Pua slipped the gun into an evidence bag then carefully labeled it before writing out a receipt. The familiar uniformed cop smiled at Five-0's commander as he handed the paper to him. Steve took it but gave no response. As Pua turned to walk toward the others to collect their weapons as well, his soft, round, face appeared puzzled.

"Anyway, he's kicking himself pretty hard right now. I can tell by that thousand-yard stare he's got going. Maybe if you wait a little while, he might be willing to hear that he's not the cause of everything bad that's ever happened in the world."

A young woman in scrubs had appeared at the entrance to the waiting area and stood surveying the people in the room. Not spotting anyone in particular she thought might be related to her patient she gave up and called out "Louis Grover's family?"

…

At first, she'd thought the message was from her employer. The country code was the right one but the number was unfamiliar. _Hmm_ , she thought as she listened to it once again. It was in Spanish first then the message was repeated in English. The accent was definitely Colombian. She prided herself on recognizing the subtleties; the differences in cadence and rhythm though the language was the same spoken in the majority of South and Central America. The caller wanted her to meet with someone locally. He promised that it would result in a very profitable arrangement for her.

She draped the strap of a small handbag over her shoulder. The light-blue leather pouch was heavier than its dimensions might indicate. Fendi made a size perfect for carrying a 9 mil along with her lip gloss. Of course, there was another weapon tucked elsewhere. She never went anywhere without it. Not having it on her would be like walking around naked. Actually, walking around naked wasn't all that big a deal but being without that blade wasn't prudent. Though the sailor wasn't aware of it, the knife was never far from her hand even during her time with him. She trusted no one.

…..

After a bit of a scare when his BP had dropped a bit too low, Lou would be fine. A couple weeks of downtime at home then physical therapy and light duty for another two or three and he'd be back to normal save for an awesome scar to show the grandkids. Samantha and Will were now in the waiting room with their mother. They'd be visiting the family patriarch as soon as he was settled into a room.

So, yeah, Captain Lou Grover would be fine but Commander Steven J. McGarrett was another matter. Though continuing to take care of business in his usual efficient manner, the man seemed distant and disengaged. When asked questions, he answered them in a monotone and offered nothing more. After the update on Lou's condition, he'd immediately ordered his team back to the palace. Kono was given the option to go home and take it easy but she'd declined, saying they were already way too short-handed. He'd nodded and accepted her decision to stay on the job.

Their day wasn't yet over despite all that had occurred. With a few more hours of daylight left, the cousins were ordered to drive up to Makakilo to question Ethan Lozano's family.

He and Danny could still get to Capwell's headquarters to re-interview its employees before their work day ended.

 _Heaven help them if they give Steve any shit,_ thought Danny as they pulled out of the palace's parking lot.

…

"How did you find out about this other girl?" asked Kono of the two sitting on the huge sofa opposite her. On its vast expanse of beige upholstery, mother and son huddled beside one another like birds on a wire.

"After Ethan . . . after he died," stammered the boy, "I thought . . . I thought that maybe I could find something that would be of help, ya know? So, I snooped on his laptop and found out that he'd been talking to a girl online. They'd arranged to, umm . . ." he glanced quickly at his mother before taking a deep breath and plunging on. "They were gonna hook-up at the soccer field the night he got killed." Eyes shifting for another quick look at the woman beside him, he explained further, "They were going to have sex." (He felt he needed to clarify the term because he was never sure how older people would interpret things).

There was a slight intake of breath from beside him but Mrs. Lozano held it together.

"I looked for other stuff but couldn't find anything. He only met her online a couple weeks ago. I don't think they ever actually saw each other in person. There was a picture of her. She's really cute. Anyway, if you're going to look for her, her phone number must show up on his cell."

"I don't recall a phone being recovered." said Kono looking toward her cousin who nodded in confirmation. No such device had been collected from the crime scene and at the time she'd thought it odd. Every kid has a cell phone.

"Do you know what her name is?" asked Chin who'd found new energy at the revelation of the mystery girl. He too had thought that nothing would come of returning to question the dead boy's family but Steve had _insisted_ and he'd been right – there'd been something more to learn.

"She said her name is Collette and that she's sixteen and a senior from Niuhi High. She'd just transferred here from the mainland a few weeks ago." The words tumbled out enthusiastically; the boy finally feeling there was something he could contribute to the investigation of his brother's death.

Suddenly stopping his narrative to chew on his lip he looked downward. "She seemed nice." he said softly.

Offering wordless comfort, his mother took his hand as he leaned into her shoulder.

"When were you going to tell us this?" asked Kono in exasperation. She was more than a little annoyed. The kid could have come forward sooner and didn't.

"I was going to call you guys but my dad said it was nothing and that I shouldn't bother you . . . that Five-0 had better things to do." defended the boy.

"Better than finding out who killed your brother?" asked the Hawaiian woman, voice and eyebrows rising in incredulity.

"No, he didn't say that. He said . . ."

"What are you people doing here!?" A man carrying a sack of take-out food stood glaring at them from the doorway. His expression told he was far from pleased to find people who are obviously cops sitting in his living room.

"Dennis, they're just continuing their investigation." quickly interjected his wife.

"You people need to stop bothering my family! We've got enough to worry about! The medical examiner won't give . . . won't release my son to us so that we can have a damned funeral!" he thundered.

Evenly replied Chin, "I'm Lieutenant Kelly and my colleague is Officer Kalakaua. We're from Five-0.

"I'm sorry, about the situation Mr. Lozano." said Kono, "We'll see if we can do anything to expedite the release of your son."

The man only glared back at them, lips drawn tightly inward, anger and devastation clearly in his eyes . . . but there was something else as well. Kono's own eyes narrowed as she silently studied the father of the victim.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **I hope you enjoyed this but even if you didn't, please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.**


	10. Wind

I'm No Angel

Chapter 10

 **Here' a late Christmas/early New Year's present. I hope you enjoy it and that you all had a lovely holiday of your choice. Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment.**

 **Not betaed. Let's just hope for the best.**

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 **Wind**

"Steve!" exclaimed Chin into the device he held tightly to his ear. He'd excused himself from the Lozano's living room and was now standing under the awning attached to the rear of their home. He'd needed privacy to give his boss an update but it was perhaps a mistake to come out here to do it. The covered patio was crowded with enough foliage to make him feel as though he was standing in the middle of a rainforest. The greenery that stirred with each new push of damp wind made quite a racket.

"We have some additional information on the Lozano kid. Actually, lots of information."said the Hawaiian cop, raising his voice to hear his own words over the clatter of broad leaves.

"We're in the car, you're on speaker, what did you find out?" asked Steve as he made the turn onto North King Street where Capwell's offices are located.

Chin's voice filled the Camaro. He seemed to be yelling. _"_ _The kid's old man finally fessed up to exactly who'd made the threats. As you suspected it's drug related. Actually, one of the biggest cartels in Honduras is behind it. They want to stop the construction of a bridge and the road that leads to it. Something about infringing on the fields where they grow crops . . . and I don't think they mean corn."_

"I'll be damned. SuperSEAL was right about the drug connection." muttered Danny as he thumbed off his own phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He'd just checked the latest weather report and informed Steve that the storm is now headed directly for Oahu.

" _Another thing is that the kid was going to meet with a girl the night he was killed. She wasn't his girlfriend."_

"Who is she?" asked Steve.

" _We don't know yet. We have to get back to the school. Surely someone else must have known about her. Teenage boys are not the most discreet about their love lives."_

"You and Kono had better get to that high school and ask questions then get on the road before the storm hits. They're predicting flooded roadways and power outages. Actually, drop Kono off at the school and just bring the whole damned family with you." ordered Steve. "Danny and I will meet you back at the palace. I'll get someone from HPD to go pick up Kono. We've got a lot of questions to ask."

...

"I'm Commander McGarrett of Five-0 and this is my colleague, Detective Williams." announced Steve. His tone made it obvious he was in no mood to be dicked around.

Close-up, the smiling blonde behind the desk resembled a heavily made-up strip of rawhide. She may have been pretty at one time but now there's no padding beneath skin that looks dry and brittle enough to be shed like a snake's. The thick application of cosmetics seemed only to accentuate her haggard appearance.

"I'm sorry but Mr. Donaldson is overbooked today. He's preparing for a big meeting with the architects and won't be available until sometime next week." Her words were accompanied by an almost comically insincere facial expression meant to convey apology.

"He agreed to be questioned for this investigation." reminded Steve, voice still calm but with a clenched jaw.

"Well, he's a very busy man. I'm sure he didn't realize how full his schedule was." The admin assistant smiled again which only further infuriated Five-0's commander.

She was lying. What doesn't help her credibility is that she's attired in a blue and white jacket with a red collar and shiny metal buttons. It made her look like a Christmas nutcracker.

"But _you_ did. You were the one I spoke with." bit out Five-0's commander.

"That may be but Mr. Donaldson sometimes makes appointments of which I'm not aware and . . ."

"Look, Ms. . . ."

"Just call me Maryanne." she replied with a smile that pulled the tendons of her neck like overstretched rubberbands that might snap at any moment and make her head fly off. It was distracting.

"Look, . . . Maryanne, . . . either your boss speaks with us now or he and you are going for a ride." Steve's voice had dropped to a low, dangerous, growl.

Pale mascaraed eyes flickered. She reached for her phone.

...

As soon as the late Bernard Sanderson had breathed his last, Trumble J. Donaldson had immediately taken over the helm of Capwell Construction Corporation.

And after less than five minutes of conversation with him, Five-0's leader concluded it had to be happenstance that got him here because it certainly wasn't brains.

Donaldson, his blow-dried pompadour even more elaborately arranged than the Jersey detective's do, pontificated from behind a huge desk. Judging by still visible indentations in the carpeting it had just recently replaced the one that had been there previously. The thing was massive; embellished with gilded details, and incredibly pretentious.

"You don't think that the murder of your predecessor is anything to be worried about? His death is suspected to be at the behest of the biggest drug cartel in Colombia." said Steve.

"I'm not worried." said the new Chief Executive Officer dismissively. "Besides, he didn't have the cajones that I have. Bernie - ineffective. He didn't even demand that our steel guy complete his contract. _I_ told the guy that if he didn't deliver, I'd get someone else who could and his company would never see a dime for what they've already shipped. Let him sue me for it.

"Did you know that Mr. Lozano had been contacted by someone who told him to stop the steel for your project? They threatened his family." said Steve, patience nearing an end.

"That's why he stopped deliveries? What a pussy." snorted Donaldson.

Danny, finding it increasingly difficult to control the desire to throttle the arrogant clown, said, "Mr. Lozano didn't take the threat seriously. Next thing he knows, he gets a call telling him that his son is dead and that his other son is next if he doesn't back out of the contract."

"I don't think I'd call him a pussy. I think I'd call him a bereaved father concerned for the safety of his remaining family." said Five-0's leader much too calmly.

Danny glanced uneasily at his partner. Steve was making him nervous.

"Yeah, well, I'm only interested in people who can deliver." said Donaldson with a dismissive wave of a hand small in comparison to his out of shape bulk which wasn't hidden by the expensive suit.

"Aren't you worried about your own safety?" asked Danny. "The guy ahead of you was assassinated. What makes you think that you're safe?"

"Me?" snorted Donaldson, "I've got better security than that loser Sanderson. The best. They'll never get to me."

"So you're not worried and now you've ordered construction to resume?" asked Steve as though to confirm his opinion that the man is indeed an idiot.

"Not worried in the least. The project will only be delayed a month at most." boasted Donaldson. "I only surround myself with winners. No losers allowed."

At this point, Danny is almost hoping the CEO's security detail isn't as good as he says it is. This cheeseball has to be the most arrogant jerk he's ever met and he'd met a few.

"So, who do you think you're going to get your steel from?" asked Steve, whose partner is now actually admiring his control, (eerie as it is).

"I've got my people on it. Whoever it is won't be a deadbeat like that other guy. He was already behind on his deliveries before this even happened." snorted Donaldson who'd probably already forgotten Lozano's name. "I mean, how hard is it to get steel to South America? My new supplier won't have a problem. He'll be great because I pick only the best."

 _Dollars to donuts he doesn't even know where Honduras is._ thought Danny fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

The meeting ended and, without the customary handshake, they left Donaldson's office. On the way out they nearly stumbled over Maryanne who'd probably been lurking right outside the door. Making sure the door to her boss's office was tightly closed she gestured to the foyer.

Reaching it, once again she checked behind them to make sure the office door was closed then turned and said apologetically, "You have no idea what it's like to work for someone like that. He's such as ass."

They nodded to acknowledge both the difficulty of being employed by such a dick and to agree with her assessment. But Steve wasn't willing to give her a pass. Under orders or not, she'd been complicit in attempting to obstruct the investigation.

"Look, our late CEO's wife is a friend of mine." she said in a voice barely above a whisper though they were standing in a deserted lobby. "Sophia suspected Bernie of cheating on her. On the night he'd been killed, he received a text. He told Sophie that it was someone from the office and that he had to go there for an emergency meeting of some sort. While he was in the shower getting ready to leave she checked his phone and saw that the message was from a woman named Collette."

"Why didn't you tell us all this before?" asked Steve in exasperation.

"Someone didn't want me to say anything. Said that it could complicate the investigation and delay the project."

"Someone?" snorted Danny.

"I think you know who I mean."

"But you're not going to say directly?" asked Steve.

"I need this job. It pays good money."

"You're willing to risk being arrested for obstruction of justice even though you supposedly despise the guy you work for?" summarized the detective.

She looked downward, unwilling to meet steely glares from two sets of eyes.

Taking a breath she raised her eyes to Danny. She wouldn't look at Steve. "Anyway, when he walked out the door Sophie said that's the last she saw of him."

She actually smiled at Danny, though not tightly enough to make those tendons an issue, "Maybe you guys should look into where _Sophie_ was that night." she said, (perhaps only jokingly), "She was pretty pissed and it doesn't sound like she misses him all that much."

"So you suspect Mrs. Sanderson?" asked Steve.

Maryanne looked startled, "No, not really. It's just that a lot of women fantasize about doing away with their husbands. If they actually followed through on it, you'd have to arrest half the female population on the planet."

Danny only nodded knowingly while his partner frowned and asked, "Do you think your boss could have anything to do with Sanderson's murder?" Steve wouldn't put it above the asshole to off someone to gain position.

The woman suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights and bit her lips as though in effort to remain silent.

"In for a penny, in for a pound, Maryanne . . ." prompted Danny.

"I, I don't know. I guess he's slimy enough but he's just a big bag of wind. I don't think he could pull it off. Besides being a total sleaze, the man's not all that bright." said the obviously stressed admin assistant with total conviction. Steve's opinion of her softened slightly.

They thanked her for the information and left for the palace. Hopefully Chin and Kono would be able to meet them there soon.

"So," summed up Danny, his hands waving about, as they walked quickly through an increasing dizzle toward the Camaro. "First we had no suspect, now we've got too many: drug dealers, a sleazeball executive, and now a pissed-off wife. This is conspiracy theory territory. Where's Jerry when we need him?"

Five-0's leader was right about something else, though not in the intended way. This was getting messy. But little did anyone know that the biggest mess would be Steve's.

...

Chin arrived at the palace with the Lozanos just before Steve and Danny got there and did his best to make the weary family comfortable.

Max had called to give a heads-up on the final report he'd be sending. Sanderson had died between 10 pm and 1 am. Because of the weather the day he'd been found, even in the underground parking facility, it had been warm enough to throw off the liver temp readings. The newly determined TOD confirmed their suspicion that Capwell's chief executive officer had been up to something that most likely contributed to his doom. Maryanne may have been right about her friend's husband catting around on the sly.

The late afternoon light that had been filtering through the increasing drizzle had become almost non-existent. Though it would still be a couple hours before the full force of the storm hit, the sky had become clogged with charcoal colored clouds. The lights in Five-0's headquarters cast shadows as though it was night.

"I didn't find out anything else!" insisted the eighteen year-old to whom the victim had an eerie resemblance. If his bereaved parents were ever to wonder what their late son would have looked like as he grew older, they'd only have to look at their first born.

"No place she might live? Nothing about her family?" asked Danny.

"Nope, nothing." answered Austin Lozano. "I gave you guys all the information I have and I'm pretty sure there isn't even anything more on his laptop. Ethan isn't . . . wasn't all that great with computers, he was more into sports . . . and girls. He didn't know that I had all his passwords and stuff." The kid sounded maybe a bit conscience stricken about his actions but proud at the same time. Either way, it was his snooping that may help them finally find a killer.

Danny inwardly smiled at the brotherly encroachment. He and his own brother had gone to great lengths to circumvent one another's privacy when they were kids but it was his sisters who'd given him the most crap. They'd been fucking relentless.

"Look, we've already lost a son!" snapped Dennis Lozano; voice tight as his wife rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "They've threatened to kill my entire family! You people need to leave us alone!"

"We need to find out who caused Ethan's death, Mr. Lozano." replied Danny, trying mightily to keep frustration out of his tone. He knew that he himself would be barely able to function if anything happened to Grace or Charlie. At the very least he'd be in jail because he'd gone after whoever was responsible.

"I caused Ethan's death! I didn't believe they'd harm a child. What kind of monsters would kill a fifteen year-old boy?!" said the distraught father again on the verge of tears.

"The people who did this are merciless and without conscience. They have absolutely no remorse for what they've done." said Steve, stating a fact.

Danny, heart aching but pursuing the truth nonetheless, said, "I'm very sorry your son died as a result of _others_ actions but we have to find these people before anyone else is harmed."

Lozano, lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to regain control. After a moment he raised his head; refocusing on the people surrounding him. "You need to make sure that Levon Sturgis gets the message then."

"Who's Levon Sturgis?" asked Steve.

"He owns Sturgis Steel, one of my competitors. Donaldson, that asshole who took over for Bernie Sanderson, called me to say that if I wasn't going to supply steel that he'd find someone else. He said he'd go to my chief competitor . . . as if it were a threat at this point." snorted Lozano. "I told him to fuck-off. Can you imagine that bastard calling me to conduct business at a time like this?"

Every member of Five-0 in the room shook their heads at the callousness of Capwell Construction's replacement CEO. It only confirmed Steve's and Danny's opinions of his supreme douchery.

"After talking to him I actually called Levon to warn him but he told me that he'd be crazy to pass up a multi-million dollar deal like this." Added Lozano, "At least he doesn't have a family. Any woman who'd marry the guy would need to have her head examined."

Then, face threatening to crumble, the bereaved father choked out, "Look, we can't answer anymore questions. It's too dangerous."

Their surviving son looked on in distress as his father and mother clung to one another.

"Mr. Lozano, I know you're concerned for the safety of your family." said Steve. "But we can protect you and them from further harm. To do that we need to get all the information we can so that these people can be stopped. Is there anything else you can add?"

Taking a shaky breath, Lozano released his hold on his wife to sit up straighter but kept his arm around her. "Well, right before Sanderson had been killed, I got another phone call. The person on the other end had a Spanish accent. He told me that if I didn't keep my mouth shut he'd send someone to shut it for me. That _she_ would make sure of it."

"She?" asked Danny, sounding surprised. Steve had remained silent but if anyone had been looking at him, they'd have seen that the blood had suddenly drained from his face.

Then as if speaking to himself, Lozano said bitterly, "I should have listened.

...

"So, you say that you did see someone the night Ethan was killed?" asked Kono.

"Yeah, well, no. I mean, I saw a girl – a tall girl – dressed all in black. Ethan told me to beat it when we saw her on the other side of the field. I didn't see her face or nuthin'. I didn't want to cramp his style so I left."

"And you thought this wasn't important enough information to tell the police?" asked Kono shaking her head at the boy sitting on the other side of the desk. She'd had it with these stupid kids. This was the last of the students she'd get to question for today. School was closing down early to let the kids get home before the storm hit.

"I, umm, I didn't want Dana to hear about it and get upset. She really loves . . . loved Ethan. She didn't know he was gonna cheat on her."

Kono sighed; glad she's no longer a teenager. Their lives are always a mess. "So, what did Ethan say about this mystery girl?"

"He said that she sounded really sexy . . . and really smart. And that she, umm . . ."

"Spit it out!" said Kono who'd lost patience with this kid long ago.

"He said that she'd umm . . . you know."

"You mean he said that she'd have sex with him?" asked Kono for confirmation of the obvious.

"Yeah, I mean, yes ma'am. He said she was really asking for it. Honest. He showed me what she'd texted him. It was pretty hot. She really did want to hook-up . . . you know, I mean . . ."

"Yeah, I got it." sighed Kono as she took the phone out of her pocket to call Steve.

...

The blue and white patrol car was making decent time back to the palace though Officer Ito drove too slowly for her taste. Kono stared out through intermittent rainfall splatting on the windshield as her mind wandered back to her boss. She'd gotten over her annoyance with him but it had been replaced with worry. Her mentor and friend had been 'off' for a while now. She'd sometimes catch him staring into space or at the screen of his laptop when there was obviously nothing on it. Then there were the mysterious deployments they weren't supposed to ask about. When he returned he'd seem a little more like his old self – at least for a while.

The firefight at the jewelry store was the first time she'd ever had doubts about Steve doing his job. He'd always protected his team, herself included, from any harm. She'd seen their leader take hits himself, both figuratively and literally, in order to do so. The man is Five-0's rock.

But lately, he'd been showing up in the mornings appearing exhausted; the shadows under his eyes darker than ever. The change didn't seem just physical though. They'd all noticed it. Something was wrong.

...

"Danny!" said Steve as he jogged toward the door. "Make sure the family gets home and put a detail on them. I don't want anyone near them until we get this settled. I might be out of cell range so, if you need me, just leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Considering his recent behavior, his partner wasn't all that surprised Steve would just abruptly split without more detail as to where he'd be or what he was doing.

"Hey!" said Danny as Steve was almost out the door. "Where you going?"

"I've gotta go see someone."

"Who?"

"None of your business, that's who."

"Very adult response, Steven." The detective called after him as the heavy glass door cut off his words. "Asshole." he muttered to no one in particular.

The wind that had buffeted the patrol car nearly all the way back to HQ had shifted direction. What had been begun as vertically falling rain was turning into slanted squalls that splashed across the asphalt. As Officer Ito pulled the patrol car into the palace's parking lot, Kono could see Steve sprinting towards his truck, paying no mind to the driving rain flattening his hair to his skull.

The storm is finally here and it's going to get worse.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **You guys think Steve should confess to the team about his dalliance with Marie? Haven't written that far yet so I'd be curious to hear your opinions on the matter if you'd care to give them.**


	11. Complicated

I'm No Angel

Chapter 11

 **Sorry for the delay. Thanks to all who commented and/or weighed-in on whether Steve should tell his team about what he's been up to. Your support, (and your patience), is much appreciated. SPNGran did her thing on several previous versions of this chapter but the final one is unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.**

 **Special thank you** **to Texas50Fan for** **her idea that starts to take shape in this chapter** **and to Aries Taurus for her help with all things French-** **C** **anadian.** **Husband** **gets a lot of credit for this chapter for** **allowing** **me to pester him about hotel stuff** **.** **(** **Now, if he could only stay out of the hospital long enough for me to finish this thing** **)** **.**

 **D** **isclaimer: No money was made and no perfection achieved.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*Hawaii*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Complicated**

On automatic pilot, mind swirling with unanswered questions, he sped north on the highway that hugged the windward coast of Oahu.

Perhaps it was all just a cosmic plot to drive him over the edge once and for all. He'd been walking that tightrope for a long time now.

Facts and details were piling up and they were leading him to one person - Marie. It felt as though he'd swallowed a chunk of ice when he realized she may have seduced a boy, killed him, then shown up barely an hour later at HQ and . . .

Waves visible from the roadway heaved against the rocky shoreline while, overhead, clouds the color of night threatened to release their violence. Were he to pull over and look upward or outward, the tumbling of sky and ocean would serve as perfect illustration of the chaos inside him.

Chills that had nothing to do with being drenched to the bone rolled through him.

Did his relationship with her have anything to do with all this? Was he being used? But how could she have known he was going to be on a pier in San Diego? Even _he_ hadn't known where he'd windup when he took off that last time. He'd just needed to get away before he lost it. Feeling the Silverado shift slightly as it was buffeted by strong gusts, he gripped the wheel tighter to hold it on course as thoughts and emotion raced faster and more powerfully than it's engine.

….

Brunch is pleasant even if it's pouring buckets outside and the guy sitting across from her is oilier than the dressing on her salad. He is most polite but there's an air about her brunch companion that would make most people uncomfortable. The eyes gazing at her from the expensively attired man held all the expression of a snake contemplating its next mouse. But Marie Roux is definitely no mouse. She'd dealt with his kind before and remained unfazed by the unspoken menace.

After explaining to the man that the reaction to this type of thing on US soil wouldn't be quite the same as the response from law enforcement in his home country she nodded thoughtfully at what he'd proposed.

Certainly it was tempting, even if only for the challenge, but she'd have to consider it for a bit before accepting. Working both sides of the street definitely wasn't Kosher but it was a _lot_ of money. If she took the job, she wouldn't have to work again for a very long time, or ever, if she was careful with her funds. Solemnly shaking his hand and thanking him for the meal, she stood, picked up the dainty little Fendi bag that was heavier than it looked and left the restaurant. She'd have to get back to her prospective employer. Normally, she wouldn't have hesitated to take the job.

The sailor had certainly complicated things.

…...

He'd asked a favor of Duke, trusting him to keep it as requested – just between the two of them. The HPD sergeant had called him back with disturbing information about the number Marie had given him. The phone is a burner and, other than a couple random calls to restaurants, etcetera, the only other number Marie had called was his. Of course there could be several valid reasons for having a disposable phone but the fact that she was using one had added another entry to the list he'd been compiling.

Max hadn't yet gotten back to him about any DNA on the water bottle and there weren't any prints to run at this point. The only ones he could find at his place were too smudged to be of use; as though Marie deliberately tried not to leave any. Even after inquiries made with his contacts in various agencies, there'd been nothing to learn. Marie's identity, (if that was even her real name), is still a mystery.

As he drove, thoughts of his own lack of restraint ate at him. He'd behaved like some horny kid instead of a grown man who'd been entrusted with the safety of the citizens of Hawaii. How had someone who prided himself on his control become such a loose canon; compromising his own long held principles? He'd betrayed one who obviously cared for him even though he may not feel quite the same way about her in return. He'd fucked everything up with Lynn for a roll in the hay with a woman who may turn out to be an emissary of the devil.

Disgust and self-loathing were his passengers in the big silver truck speeding along the wind-blown highway.

...

Driving past his destination, he parked farther down the road and jogged through driving rain to the hotel's entrance. He strode quickly to the front desk; waiting impatiently while the clerk finished a phone conversation with a guest. She looked up with an apologetic smile as she dealt with the caller. Her end of the conversation revealed there'd been some sort of problem regarding a guest's breakfast tray.

Having time to look around the lobby, he realized its décor was similar to the room where he'd spent his time with Marie. Pleasingly posh, it had a high open-beamed ceiling, creamy white walls, and furniture of wicker and dark wood. Fan blades shaped like palm fronds swirled slowly overhead stirring the heavily laden air.

In an accent of Caribbean origin the clerk acknowledged that the stargazers, (whatever the hell those are), have a strong smell. "Perhaps madame would prefer some lovely hybrid roses which have almost no scent?" she asked. Whatever the reply, it made her wince. "We do have an excellent physician on-call who can be summoned to your room. Does madame require such services?" the answer provoked another wince, "I shall definitely make the staff aware so that it doesn't happen again, madame. The Grande Terre offers its sincerest apologies for your discomfort."

As the call ended, his thought was, _I wouldn't want this poor woman's job for all the macadamias in Hawaii!_

Thankfully, the perturbed guest hadn't negotiated for a discounted rate. He was pretty sure that the people who stayed here weren't all that concerned about money. Once again he wondered how Marie could afford it. How exactly does she make her living?

The beleaguered clerk in the coral-hued blazer with 'Hotel des Grande Terre embroidered in gold thread over the breast pocket smiled at the man before her. He was soaked; wet clothing traced his body – a wonderfully athletic body from what she could tell. Tiny droplets of rain clung to his long lashes. _Perhaps this cursed storm has brought something other than misery to me?_ thought Lenore, _Certainly, something much prettier to look at than_ _fat_ _tourists._

Raising the hem of a soggy shirt, he unclipped a badge from his belt. Holding it up before her he announced, "I'm Commander McGarrett of Five-0."

Pale eyes in a face the color of burnt honey widened but she quickly composed herself to present a serene friendliness and asked, "How may we be of assistance to you, Commander McGarrett?"

"Call room 203 and see if the woman who rented it is in." he ordered. With no apparent vanity in the gesture he raked his fingers through his hair to push back the dark strands plastered to his forehead.

"Is there a message you'd like me to convey, sir?"

"No, umm . . . ask if she has enough towels or something. I just need to know if the room is occupied."

Nodding, Lenore picked up the phone once again and punched in the room number. After listening for several moments, she placed the handset back into its cradle and said, "There's no answer there, sir."

He nodded then asked. "What name did she register with and when?"

Long fingers ghosted gracefully over the keyboard of the registration system. After a few clicks, she leaned forward to double check the screen before straightening to say, "Madame registered as Ms. Collette Savard, a day short of two weeks ago."

 _Collette!_ Another chunk of ice wedged into his gut. _She'd been here for nearly a week before the murders._

Clearing his throat he asked, "How long is the room booked for and how did she pay for it? Was a credit card used?"

"The room had been paid for in cash and there are still several days left on the prepay. Madame Savard has booked it for an entire month."

"Do you know what Ms. Savard looks like?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. She's a very attractive lady. Tall with short dark hair."

Nodding in confirmation, he willed his heart to slow from its increasingly rapid beating. "If you see her, don't tell her that anyone was inquiring after her."

"The Hotel du Grande Terre is known for its discretion." replied Lenore before adding, "Though we do our best to cooperate with the authorities when required."

Without her having to say it, Five-0's commander knew that what she means is 'What happens here stays here unless someone calls the cops'.

"Please dial this number immediately if you see her come in . . . Lenore." he said as he glanced at her name tag while pulling out his wallet to extract a card to push across the counter.

"Of course." she said with a solemn nod; deftly slipping the damp rectangle into her pocket.

Belatedly using the smile that got him pretty much anything he wanted from nearly any woman he used it on, he thanked her and crossed the Persian carpeted lobby to trot up the stairway next to the elevator. There was certainly no need to wait for the lift, there were only three stories to the boutique hotel.

Arriving at the third floor room, he gained entry with the key card Marie had given him at their last 'meeting'. There probably wouldn't be much time to conduct a search.

….

Other than the small bottle of a perfume on the bedside table, there was nothing else. He carefully uncapped it and took a sniff. It was definitely what he'd smelled on the boy's jacket and the bracelet. The same cologne he identified with Marie.

It's labeled 'Farouche'. He's actually familiar with the word, having learned it when his team had been working with UN Special Forces in Afghanistan. When an eight-year-old child had fled in fright when they'd rolled into his village, he and a French soldier had given chase; worried the kid might run into nearby hostiles. But the boy was wild as a hare and as fast. When they finally caught him, he'd put up quite a fight for such a small child. The Frenchman had used 'farouche' to describe the fierce and sullen boy they'd returned to his worried mother.

He'd left the village thinking that he'd at least kept one innocent safe from harm but a few days later, he'd learned the kid had been killed by a Taliban landmine and the soldier who'd been helping in the chase had been seriously wounded at Surobi.

So many failures . . .

Shaking himself from thoughts that wouldn't help, he sought to concentrate once again on the current situation. He'd have Jerry do some research to see if the perfume is sold locally. Maybe it's popular enough for someone else to have worn it other than Marie.

After several more minutes he'd found nothing of note. Making sure that he'd left no traces of his search, he left the room and returned to the lobby to tell Lenore he was leaving but to call him when Ms. Savard returned.

…

'Wound tighter than the lug nuts on a Land Rover' thought Danny, using one of Lou's favorite expressions. Steve had returned to HQ; his usual easy saunter replaced by a hard-heeled march across the granite tiled floor. It was obvious to the astute detective that something more than an unsettled love life was at play here. He and his partner are going to have to have a talk.

Long past any normal working hours, the team minus Grover was once again gathered around the smart table discussing the two murders that, unlikely as it may have originally seemed, are connected.

Steve had found a towel somewhere and was scrubbing it through his hair; making it stand up in spikes. It was all Danny could do to keep his hands away and not try to flatten it down. His partner's lack of concern for any hairstyling made him nuts.

It continued to pour outside. The latest word is that the hurricane whose leading edge is pounding Oahu, is stalled offshore. When it gets moving again it's predicted to intensify as it passes over land. Everyone seems to be holding their breaths waiting for Hurricane Alika, (so named by the National Hurricane Center), to continue her path across the island.

Steve had news to give them. On the way back from his still unexplained mission, he'd received a call from a contact, (finally), who provided further detail to what they'd learned from Dennis Lozano. He told of an ongoing dispute between two big-time drug cartels in Honduras.

The focal point of their discord is the proposed bridge over the Patuca River. So far, the two rivals had stuck to a truce and refrained from hostilities but the arrangement would only work if they remained on equal footing. One of the cartels wouldn't be much affected by the project so they didn't see any problem with the bridge but the one whose clandestine income would be taking a hit was outraged. The change in infrastructure could make it possible for one group to dominate the other.

The new bridge would be accessed by an eight-lane highway cutting through prime poppy fields, making the illegal crops visible to the public. Any drug enforcement agency remaining untainted by the lure of easy money would be prompted to take action.

"So, Capwell Construction and Pacific Island Steel are the ones suffering in the fallout from this pissing contest between the, um, Puerta al Infiernos and the Río de Muertes?" asked the Jersey detective, pausing to check his scribbled notes. He was so tired his head was mush but he spoke enough Spanish to translate the cartel's names, (neither of them necessarily cheerful). The first one he'd written down is 'Doorway to Hell' with the other being 'River of Death'.

 _Who thinks up these cheesy_ _names_ _?_ thought Danny. _Couldn't they just call themselves something simple like The Sharks and_ _T_ _he Jets?_

"They just restarted sinking the concrete piers for the new bridge." said Steve, "Construction is underway again."

"So, the offing of the guy at Capwell was supposed to make them stop construction but the new CEO is going ahead with it." nodded Kono. The nick at her hairline that had bled so much at the scene of the jewelry store robbery was now almost invisible.

"And it was reinforced by the killing of the son of one of their subcontractors." said Chin with a tired sigh.

"Killing that kid was just . . . evil." said Kono.

"Yeah, but we're talking drug cartels here so evil is just another Tuesday." replied Danny.

Expression matching his bleak tone, Steve said, "In any case, we . . . _I_ should have made the connection between the two murders a lot sooner."

No one commented. The guilt and self-recrimination in his statement was apparent. There'd been nary a smile nor even a softening of their leader's stony expression since the jewelry store shoot-out. Pretty much the only time he spoke was when they were discussing the case. Trying to make him feel better about what had happened was futile.

There was nothing official from IAD yet but word was that their review of the 'officer involved shooting' had found no negligence on the part of Five-0. No one would be reprimanded for what Steve considered his own giant screw-up.

Said Chin in effort to break the silence, "So, we've established a motive but we still don't know if it's this Eidolon guy that did it. He probably doesn't work cheap but we know the money's certainly there to finance the work."

Steve nodded then looked away; lips drawn into a thin line. Reflection from the streetlamps outside wavered and danced on the floor of the office. He focused on the palm fronds beating against the windows as though they knew something worse was coming and wanted in.

Perhaps they too had heard an ominous whisper that had nothing to do with the storm.

 _..._

Steve sent everyone home for the night but he'd remained. Sitting in his silent office, he contemplated what had led up to his current predicament. He thought he was alone.

 _How could a random hook-up in San Diego be part of this? Who'd even picked up who on the pier? That had been more than six months ago. Had our rediscovery of one another in the restaurant been accidental or was it planned?_ _If this all goes to hell and I have to let my team know what I've been up to and who I've been up to it with - what am I going say? . . . '_ _Hey guys, I'm a total fucking idiot. I've been cheating on my girlfriend with this woman I picked up in a bar, (on a pier?), who, by the way, may be a murderer.'_

He had to somehow meet with Marie. He needed to ask questions without arousing suspicion . . . or arousing anything else.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear Danny until he pushed open the door and blew into the room like the storm that had everybody scrambling for shelter.

"I think it's time we had a talk, Steven!" announced the detective without preamble. He'd been halfway home when, with a curse, he'd turned the Camaro around.

"Another one?" snorted Steve without looking up. He reached for a report that had been sitting on his desk for hours and pretended to read it. Danny demanding a conversation was never a good thing. It inevitably led to something he _didn't_ want to talk about.

The detective stood there, arms crossed, knowing his partner was trying to ignore him but that wasn't going to happen.

Steve signed the last page of the stack of paperwork then tossed the pen onto his blotter before leaning back in his chair. Fixing hooded eyes on the man standing in front of his desk he said, "Sit down then if you're not going to go away."

Danny nodded silently then turned to plop himself down on a chair opposite. "So, what's going on with you?" he asked.

"I thought we already had this discussion."

"Don't try to be evasive, Steven. Despite your supposed vast experience in covert ops, you're not that good at it."

The tall man glared at him then snapped, "What exactly is it that you want . . . Daniel?"

"As I asked a moment ago, what is going on with you? Why are you being so secretive; I mean even more than usual? Why have you been such a dick to everyone? Are you still seeing that woman? I'm guessing yes 'cause you don't you look any more rested than you did days ago when we talked about you burning the candle at both ends. Did you call if off with Lynn? What gives?"

"First of all, you've asked a hundred questions in one paragraph. But before I answer any of them, I've got one for you. "Why is my love-life any of your damn business?!"

Not letting his partner's tone affect him the detective answered evenly, "Look, you can be as pissy as you want but I'm not going away and my answer to your question is that it's the business of someone who actually cares about you, you jackass."

Steve sat glaring angrily; lips pressed into a tight line. Friends or not, he had no intention of responding to what amounted to an interrogation.

"Fine!" announced Danny. "If you're not going to answer, I'm going to have to suggest something you don't want to hear. I'm going to suggest that you take a vacation. Get out of town for a few days."

"You know that's not gonna happen." snorted Steve.

"Look, I don't know if fatigue had anything to do with that kid getting the drop on us outside the jewelry store. I mean, I missed seeing him as well, but I do know that you blame yourself."

The only sound was that of wind-driven rain splatting against the big windows on this side of the office.

"You gonna talk to me about it or do I have to get the governor involved?"

Steve gave him a long, hard, stare as he braced himself.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*Hawaii*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **This should go two more chapters. Whump in the next one. Thanks for sticking with it and taking the time to comment. Your support is much appreciated.**


	12. Theories

I'm No Angel

Chapter 12

 **Sorry but I couldn't make the whump happen in this chapter without it being several thousand words too long. Next chapter will have it for sure.**

 **SPNGran took a look at several versions of this but this final one has been proofed by Imaginary Beta. My apologies.**

 **Disclaimer: Being paid for writing stuff would be great but in the meantime there's this.**

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 **Theories**

"Spill, Steven. Just what the hell has caused you to shove your head up your own ass?"

With two sets of eyes locked in challenge, words are suspended. The sound of hammering rain is the only thing breaking the silence. After a long tense minute the standoff is finally ended when Steve closes his eyes and an exasperated breath signals his resignation. He's just too tired to fight.

"Look, Danny" he began, "I know I've been a prick so if you're here to tell me that, don't bother. I know I have to apologize to the team . . . and to you. It's just . . ." Steve seemed to run out of steam. Slumping into his seat he looked away to fasten his gaze on the tops of the palm trees dancing outside his window. "I guess I've just been kind of out of sorts lately."

"Out of sorts? That's like saying Attila the Hun got up on the wrong side of the bed." snorted the detective.

The corners of the tall man's mouth actually turned up slightly as he shifted his gaze to his partner.

"You're still blaming yourself for what happened to Lou, aren't you?" asked Danny accusingly, "Knock it off! You know that Renee actually wanted to apologize for going off on you at the hospital? She really doesn't blame you. She knows that shit happens when you're a cop."

Steve looked no less miserable as he replied. "What happened to Lou is only one of the things."

Danny wasn't sure if he should say it but if there's a time to do so, this is it. "Honestly, Steve, I don't think you've been yourself since Catherine left. I mean there's plenty of other reasons for you to be _out of sorts_ as you call it but when you love someone like that and they split . . ."

"Look, Danny. Catherine and I had a great relationship but it's over. End of story."

"Oh, come on, Steven. You've closed yourself off since then. It's like your body's here but your head isn't. It's okay to admit that you loved her and that it hurts that she left."

"Yeah, we did love each other . . . well, I loved her anyway." acknowledged Steve.

"Honestly, I don't know how you two managed to keep it together for so long, I mean talk about long-distance relationships."

"It wasn't easy but when we finally did manage to be in one place at one time it was like a party." said Steve with a small smile of remembrance.

"So the reunions made up for anything else that was missing? Was it what kept you together for so long?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean . . . I don't know what I mean." he finally sighed. "We respected one another and trusted one another. Look at all the stuff she did for Five-0. I mean, she risked her career to help us out. I had an obligation to her for putting herself in such a precarious position. I tried to make our get-togethers, you know, special."

"So you paid her back with sex?"

"What?! No!" Steve looked aghast. It was probably the first time he'd even considered it this way but, ultimately, he didn't deny it.

Danny got it now. Here's a grown man who couldn't say for sure that he knows the difference between love and sex. But who would have taught him that? His parents? They weren't around when such lessons should have been learned. At a time in his life when emotional guidance was needed, he was being raised by institutions whose goal was to shut down anything so messy as emotion. He wasn't surprised that Steve had used his body as payment for favors done. It's probably what he thought was right; after all, his body is what he gave to his country.

For the moment, they'd have to let the issue lie where it is. This wasn't something that could be sorted out in the next few minutes or even hours. This is where professionals should come in.

"So what else then? What finally happened between you and Lynn? Did you tell her about this other woman? You did, didn't you?! I told you that sometimes you're too honest."

Steve shook his head before replying, "What I did was anything but honest."

Danny waited for his friend to elaborate.

"Lynn and I, we . . . we were more than friends but less than . . . you know. I told her that I wasn't being fair to her because she wanted something I wasn't prepared to give. That it wasn't anything she'd done or not done but I had to end it."

"Ah, the old, 'It's not you it's me' speech." nodded Danny. "I bet that went over well."

"I think she called me a 'an immature asshole.'"

"Perceptive woman."

This time, Steve gave his partner a look that would have turned an iceberg to steam.

"I'm sorry it ended that way, babe. She seemed really into you but it has to go both ways for it to work."

"The physical part was great but we never got to the 'L' word.", said Steve almost to himself.

"You know, It's great when you establish a relationship with someone that fills both of those requirements but, if not, you gotta let the other person know where they stand. I think you did the right thing."

Steve nodded while looking downward; worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"As serious an issue as that is, I know there's more to it." prompted the detective. "Does your new _friend_ have a role in this . . . your perpetually rotten mood I mean?"

Steve, not taking offense, raised his eyes to to look unsurely at his friend and replied, "I have some suspicions about Marie."

Danny frowned. He'd been ready to hang-in until Steve opened up about whatever issues were screwing with his head but he wasn't expecting to hear this. "What do you mean suspicions?"

"I haven't been able to get in touch with her at the number she'd given me. Her phone's a burner and there's no voicemail so I couldn't leave a message. There's other things too but until I know something for sure, I'm not going to say."

"How do you know her phone's a burner?" asked the detective other than stating what to him would be the obvious - the woman was trying to give Steve the brush-off.

"I, umm, had someone check on it for me. I didn't want to involve you guys yet - if at all – if it turned out to be nothing."

Danny certainly wasn't surprised that his increasingly secretive partner had elected to deal with this on his own. Besides the embarrassment of having a private life become public, Steve has a side to him that his team would probably never know. And though his friend had become vastly more open than when they'd first met, he'd begun once again to retreat behind his old walls.

"You know, a lot of people just get cheap disposables when they travel so they don't incur any of those outrageous charges from those thieving bastards that call themselves phone companies. And as for not answering, maybe she just wants some alone-time. Not _every_ woman is going to be breathlessly awaiting your calls. Some of them actually have standards."

Steve snorted at the dig before saying, "Yesterday I searched her room at the hotel where she's been staying."

Danny stared at his partner open mouthed.

"Why would you do that? Is there anything specific that you suspect her of or is this just part of a . . . um . . . generalized feeling?" cautiously asked the detective. This was really concerning. Maybe the guy's finally losing it. It would be understandable. How Steve managed to survive the shit that had been raining down on him since before they'd even met, he had no idea. Certainly, being part of Five-0 had added to it. They'd all been witness to the ugliness of which humankind is capable.

"I don't have anything concrete yet, Danny, but it may have something to do with a case."

"The only case we're working on is . . ."

Steve nodded.

"You can't mean the Eidolon thing?"

Steve's silence was his answer.

Danny exhaled and ran his hands through his hair – not something he did unless really disturbed. Should he chalk this up to paranoia? Does Steve really have any foundation for his suspicions about his mysterious hook-up? In any case, there needs to be more information than he's been willing to divulge.

"You've gotta give me something else, Steven. Why can't you just tell me about any specifics?"

"I can't . . . yet." was the brief but resolute answer.

"Steven, I really don't know what to make of this. First question is, what is the hold that this woman has on you? You've already said it's not love. Is she that good in the sack or what?"

A shrug was his friend's only response.

"Well . . . we have a case that needs solving right now so if you have any information pertinent to it, you need to give it up. You've been so, um, distant lately that I have no idea how to process even what you've told me. You need to give me more, my friend."

"Like I said, I can't."

"You mean you won't." snorted Danny.

"I shouldn't have said _anything_ to you, dammit!" stormed Five-0's leader. "If I had anything concrete, I'd have told you! Right now, it's just . . . theory that hasn't been proven! I repeat, THERE'S NOTHING TO TELL YOU!"

"That's not gonna cut it!. You're being evasive and whatever is going on with you may have already started to affect your work!" Dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper, Five-0's second-in-command said, "If you don't get it together soon, for your own good, I'm gonna have to ask the Governor to make you take a leave of absence. I don't want to do that. You know I don't want to do that."

Steve's nostrils flared with barely controlled anger as hazel-blue eyes tried to bore holes in the blonde man sitting on the other side of his desk. "Fine." he finally spat. "You do what you have to do, Danny."

The rain outside seemed to grow even louder as thunder rolled in the distance.

…

 _The only one who knew about the extracuricular activity is Danny and why would he have suspected there was anything more to it than simple uncontrolled lust? I should never have said anything._

Only after a threat to be physically thrown out of his office, had Danny left. His partner was angry but the one who'd angered him wasn't yet ready to divulge all: that the night of the Lozano kid's murder, Marie had shown up dressed all in black the way the dead boy's classmate had described Collette's attire, that she'd been on the island for nearly a month before the murders, that he suspected she'd intentionally left no usable prints, and then there was the perfume . . .

He'd again contacted Lenore at the Grande Terre and learned there'd been nothing to indicate Ms. Savard had returned to her room since he'd been there to search it – no calls to the front desk, room service, or housekeeping. Lenore had even checked with the maids assigned to room 203 to see if there was any indication the room had been recently occupied. It hadn't.

Jerry had returned to Honolulu. Once again, Steve had asked that an inquiry remain covert. Of course Five-0's resident conspiracy theorist had immediately acquiesced. Special Consultant Jerry Ortega _lived_ for covert. Anxious to be proven a trustworthy friend to one he practically worships, he'd have agreed to pretty much anything his boss asked of him.

Now he stood in Steve's office reciting what he'd learned. As was his way, the big man supplied more information than was needed: "It's main components are bergamot, cardamom, vetiver, and oakmoss, as well as some other stuff that's more familiar – like rose, sandalwood, musk . . ." He stopped his recitation at Steve's frown. "Well, in any case, Farouche is no longer manufactured and the only way to acquire it is to have it custom blended."

"So who does that sort of thing? Custom blends perfumes?" asked Steve, glad that Jerry had stopped his didactic listing of ingredients.

"It turns out there are more than forty noted perfumers in the world and many, many, more of less noteworthiness." summed up Five-0's king of the arcane.

"Then I'm sure you know what your next assignment is." responded Steve with a wave of a hand. With at least forty sources for the product, Jerry has his job cut out for him and, (no pun intended), time is of the essence.

As the shaggy man hurried off to complete his assignment, Steve picked up his phone to once again try Marie's number.

He had to meet with her. He needed to question her without arousing suspicion, (and without arousing anything else). If she was using him, he had to put a stop to it . . . and her.

….

An incoming call activated his cell and he snatched it up to bark, "McGarrett!"

"Commander?" asked a familiar voice sounding startled at the abruptness of the greeting.

"Yes, this is Commander McGarrett." he replied immediately toning it down, "Do you have something for me, Lenore?"

"Yes, I do. Ms. Savard has checked out of her room and requested her things be forwarded to a location off the island."

"Where?" he asked, his exhaustion now forgotten as he concentrated on the clerk's voice.

"To Mumbai, India."

"Did she do that over the phone?" he asked.

"Yessir. And I called you as soon as our conversation ended." answered Lenore.

"Who was the carrier she requested to send her bags to Mumbai?"

"DHX, sir."

"Do you know if she made the arrangements with DHX herself?"

"Yes, she did and then Ms Savard gave us all the information needed to acccomplish the task. We only had to have her bags waiting in the lobby for the carrier to pick up. She tipped the maids generously to pack them for her."

"Thank you so much for your help, Lenore. You've been invaluable." With that he punched the icon to end the call and strode to Chin's office. The Hawaiian looked up startled as he suddenly found his boss standing in front of his desk.

"Steve?"

"I need you to track a call!" announced his tense looking leader.

"Of course." replied Chin; immediately standing to go to the smart table, Steve right behind him. "What do you have for me?" he asked as his hands flew over the glass surface, pulling up the requisite program.

"There were two calls from the same source. The first was to the DHX office here in Honolulu and the second was to the front desk of the Hotel des Grande Terre on the North Shore. This would have been between between approximately 0800 and 0820. When you find the source, tell me the location."

Steve waited impatiently beside him, fingers drumming on the edge of the table, as Chin plugged in the info. In only a moment the Hawaian came up with an address. "The calls originated from the Blue Reef Motel, 5400 Salt Lake Boulevard."

"Thanks!" said Steve as he jogged toward the door.

"You want me to go with?" called Chin after the retreating man.

"No, thanks. I got this!" responded Steve as the door closed behind him.

Chin shook his head. Steve's recent behavior was worrying. Maybe it was time to once again ask Danny what was going on with his partner.

...

He'd outright intimidated the kid at the front desk into giving up her room number. Though he had to be older, the clerk looked young enough to still be attending junior high.

This time she'd registered as Marla Hovington. When given her description the kid had immediately come up with a name. Marie had apparently made quite an impression on him.

She didn't answer when he knocked and, after waiting a sufficient amount of time, he used the key the trembling clerk had given him. There was an open carry-on sitting on the bed. He searched through it not bothering to hide any dissarray he may have caused. A small make-up bag and a few pieces of clothing were all it held. Zipping open a side compartment, he discovered a sheet of the Grande Terre's stationery. Unfolding it, he saw that in the same handwriting as was on the note that morning at the hotel, were the words 'King' and 'Bishop'. He doubted it pertained to any game of chess. Below the names were precisely written numbers. He recognized their purpose and his blood ran cold. He himself had used the same type of caluclations many times while deployed.

He stared at the numbers as though mesmerized. His heart beat wildly as all the pieces clicked into place. Pulling out his cell, he pressed number one on speed dial as he dashed out the door.

"Danny!" he barked as soon as his partner answered, "Meet me at the building on the corner of King and Bishop. I'll be on the roof. Bring back-up!" Ending the call without waiting for a reply or giving further detail, he bolted down the stairs.

...

The view from here is beautiful; the sea and the strand an aqua and tan ribbon in the distance. The leading edge of the storm had passed over the island and they were now in its eerily calm eye. The sky is visible directly overhead but clouds boiled at the edges of the bright blue skull cap. She knew the humidity was going to screw with trajectory but it's not something she can't overcome. The shot would be a bit trickier but not insurmountably difficult. She just had to get it done before the storm picked up again and the wind added to the variables.

She didn't expect any hitches. Set up the shot, take a deep breath, let it out, pull the trigger, pack-up and leave. She should be back at her room at that ratty little motel and kicking back with a cool drink within the hour. Maybe she'll give the sailor a call. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. One last roll in the clover before she leaves for Zurich. She expects that he'd be onboard with the idea.

Her bags wouldn't be catching up with her for a few days yet. She should have left everything here in Honolulu but she'd brought her Fendi bag and that pair of Weitzman boots. The bag was perfect for concealing her 9 mil and it takes forever to break in a good pair of boots; she didn't want to leave them behind.

Despite the weather, everything was going as expected. What she wasn't expecting was the very man she'd been thinking of only moments earlier materializing silently behind her.

"Hold it right there, Marie!"

Turning at his voice, she was greeted with the business end of a Sig Sauer.

Freezing in place, she allowed the rise of an elegantly arched brow and pursed her lips. _Well, this is a predicament._

 _*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*_

 **Next chapter will be a whumpapalooza. Would love to hear what you thought of this one.**


	13. Storm

I'm No Angel

Chapter 13

 **I know this chapter has been a long time in coming. RL still hasn't finished batting me around yet. Finding time and place in which to write has been difficult. My only defense is 'better late than never'. Thank you to all of those who've taken the time to review, follow, or favorite. Sorry I haven't yet gotten back to you to acknowledge your comments but I will.**

 **SPNGran once again served as muse, butt-kicker-in-chief, and first draft proof-reader. Imaginary Beta proofed the final version so you know what to expect.**

 **Disclaimer: No money was made from this effort. Its only beneficiary was Not-So-Ninja-Cat who appreciated the warm keyboard.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Storm**

Steve is several feet away in a shooter's stance - a gun held steady in his hands. "Drop the rifle!" he ordered. The eyes looking down the barrel at her are cold and purposeful.

She smiled faintly, hesitating only a moment before obediently laying down the weapon. She placed the AXMC gingerly on the gravely surface, avoiding a puddle of standing rainwater. It's an expensive gun – her favorite. When this is over, she wants it back unharmed.

"So, you've figured it out, huh?" she asked calmly, straightening to smile at her lover.

"Figured out that you're a murderer, yeah." answered Steve, his tone clipped and hard.

"It's too bad it happened so soon, mon loup. I mean, we could have had more time together before I had to leave."

"Didn't happen soon enough." he growled. "The party's over, Marie."

"And here I thought we were having such fun. Well, _I_ was anyway." Cocking her head she added in a teasing tone, "If I'm not mistaken, you seemed to be enjoying our time together as well. Aren't you sorry it has to end?"

"No." he answered with certainty, squinting against the glare reflecting off the thin layer of water left standing on the roof. The front wall of the storm had passed and in this brief period of sunlight it had warmed enough that wisps of steam rose from the mirror-like surface. But the sky would soon cloud over again as the eye of the storm moved on. The recently calmed breeze was already starting to pick up.

"It's over, Marie, or Collette, or whatever the hell your name is. You're going to have to face the consequences for what you've done."

"And what is it that you think I've done?" she asked, sounding almost coquettish. A man with hair-trigger reflexes is holding a gun on her so she remained motionless but her mind is going a mile a minute trying to plot a way out of this. It's going to be tricky.

"You know damned well what you've done." he replied, his gaze and the barrel of his Sig unwavering. "I know you've killed two people."

Her eyes had lost their amusement. The sparkle was gone now and they appeared as black as the hole in the barrel of a gun. Dropping the pretense of innocence, (the man is much too smart to fall for it . . . again), she shrugged and replied, "Well, two on this island anyway."

"So, what happened to you to turn you into Eidolon? What in your life changed you from a little girl from Quebec into a woman who kills people for a living?"

"I haven't been a little girl since I was six." she snorted with disdain. "My process to womanhood was greatly accelerated due to the _affections_ ", she said the word with venom, "of one of my mother's boyfriends."

His eyes widened. Her meaning was clear. It explained a lot.

She chuckled mirthlessly at his startled reaction to her description of the trauma that had stolen her innocence and destroyed any desire or ability to form an emotional bond with another human being.

The faint smile once again returned but didn't come close to reaching her eyes when she said, "I did prevail though. He's dead now. Very, very dead."

"As opposed to ordinary dead?" he asked. He knew it may be best to keep her talking until the others got here. He thought he could hear sirens in the distance but the wind could be carrying sound from another part of the island.

"Oh yeah. They'll never find his body . . . well, they may find pieces of it." she shrugged before adding with a chuckle, "But just small ones."

"You have to give yourself up, Marie. There's no way you're getting off this island. I know that you're a mechanic working for a drug cartel in Honduras."

She didn't confirm his statement; saying instead, "I never tell who hires me. It's a code of honor thing. I'm sure you understand . . . the honor part anyway."

"Honor?!" he spat, "One of the people you killed was just a boy!"

"He wasn't the youngest I've ever had to deal with." She said it in an offhand way as though killing a fifteen-year-old was just another day at work - nothing terribly remarkable – or heartless. And though her statement was the truth she'd used it to see if she could rattle him. She and the sailor are much too evenly matched. Any tactic to disturb the man's equilibrium is definitely needed.

The two remained frozen twenty feet apart; eyes locked across the wet rooftop as daylight suddenly dimmed and the wind picked up.

Barely containing his disgust at her callous reply, Steve waited. He needed to press her for answers before his team arrived and he was required to come up with some answers himself to questions like, _'How did you figure out that this woman is an assassin?'._

Though he held a gun on her, he wouldn't approach. He's not stupid. He already knows that her skill level is probably equal to his own. He himself would be waiting until his opponent came into range so that he could make a move. And, even though she'd pretty much proven herself to be without conscience, he didn't want to hurt her if he could avoid it.

Making a conscious effort to keep his breathing even and slow, he asked, "How did you get him to the soccer field?"

Marie had also decided to stall for time until she could figure a way out of this. As though relaxing into a cozy conversation, she shifted slightly to rest her weight on one hip while the gun trained on her heart followed the minute movement. "You know," she began, "social media is an amazing tool. It wasn't that difficult to establish contact and lure him to the school's playing field. He was much too trusting . . . and much too horny." she added offhandedly.

"So you seduced a kid." he spat with disgust.

Indignant that he would think her a child molester, the cold-blooded killer replied defensively, "I don't sleep with children! It was only words that seduced him! I never touched him! I'm not a monster!"

"How could you not be a monster! You murdered a child! How could it have been worse!" Despite his attempt at calm, the woman's refusal to acknowledge the seriousness of her crime incensed him.

"Oh, believe me, Steven." she snorted, "There are worse things. You are a policeman and before that, you were a soldier. You've seen it! Children are just objects to some people!" Here, Marie's unnatural calm began to crack. Eyes blazing she spit out. " _Real_ monsters use them in ways that . . ." Seeming to catch herself, she measured her inhales and exhales in an attempt to regain her composure. When her expression had returned to one of icy calm she finished by saying: "I'm sure you know what I mean."

"How did your perfume get on the boy's jacket if you didn't touch him?!" he asked accusingly. Keeping her off-balance might keep her from making an effective move to escape. He was waiting for it. He'd be surprised if she didn't make an attempt.

This time, the tall woman answered with what could be described as a fond smile. "The boy was actually quite gallant. The grass was damp so he offered me the jacket to sit on. It was such a lovely gesture I couldn't refuse. Such a sweet boy."

"He was sweet but you killed him anyway." replied Steve, unable to keep emotion from again creeping into his voice.

"Money is money." she shrugged.

"He was just a kid!" he shouted, raising his voice in anger but also to be heard over the increasing wind. It was strong enough now that it had begun to whistle around the building on which they stood; moaning through the concrete canyons surrounding it.

"Oh, don't be such a fucking pussy." she replied disdainfully, "No matter how young, he was just another guy who wanted to get into my pants. He already had a girlfriend but, girlfriend or not, it wasn't all that difficult to get him to meet me. It was only a game . . . the oldest one between males and females. Men are so easy." she sniffed.

The hole in the clouds overhead had moved westward; the sky in process of darkening to an inky hue. Soon, the back wall of the storm would whirl over them; its force equal to or greater than that which had already pummeled the island.

He remained silent, studying the woman whose hair whipped about in the wind; iridescent black strands illuminated by the last ray of sunlight striking the rooftop. She stared back at him with hooded eyes.

He had to ask the question.

"And what about me, Marie? Was I just part of your game? Were you just using me for information?"

She laughed and her eyes sparkled again. "No, mon ange. You were just too hard to resist . . . like candy. Like beautiful . . . delicious . . . hard . . . candy. I've always loved sweets."

He stared stonily at her. She'd hidden her crazy so well . . . until now.

...

The storm was once again raging. Jagged bolts zigzagged across a nearly black sky and the Camaro's wipers barely kept up with the torrent cascading down its windshield. They'd just turned onto Bishop Street when the power pole on the corner was struck. With a great blue flash and a deafening clap of thunder the electrified pole glowed eerily then crashed toward the roadway; a cross-member punching through the windshield. Narrowly missing the Camaro's driver, the metal bar embedded itself into the empty passenger seat.

He'd swerved trying to avoid the pole but the airbag deployed with a loud report when the sleek silver car impacted a tree standing in the parkway. One of the ancient ironwood's thick gnarled limbs, already weakened by the first onslaught of Hurricane Alika, cracked and broke through; landing atop the machine that had assaulted it.

The vehicle behind the Camaro swerved and skidded to a stop without hitting anything but a loud squeal and an even louder crunch signaled an additional collision. The patrol car behind the red Cruz had been rear-ended by one following much too closely for high speed travel on a wet street.

Momentarily stunned but not incapacitated, Danny struggled free from the airbag and forced the jammed driver's door open. Fighting his way through the dense foliage atop his ruined car, (luckily, the power to the entire block was out and there was no danger of being electrocuted by downed power lines), he ran toward the two now conjoined patrol cars. As the relatively unscathed looking HPD officers climbed out of their damaged blue and whites, he changed direction and rushed toward the only operational vehicle left in the convoy.

Kono had slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid the now ruined Camaro but her normally unflappable cousin in the seat beside her looked shaken by the near miss. With the wind having comically unmoored his normally anchored locks, Danny dove into the back seat, yelling, "Go, go, go! We've gotta get to Steve!"

Kono threw the vehicle into gear, tires squealing on the rain slick asphalt as the Cruz reversed in a one-eighty. The SUV briefly fishtailed as it sped back down the street to detour around the chaos.

They had no idea what awaited them when they reached the address Steve had yelled into the phone. But, it was Steve. It could be anything from a dispute with an annoyed DMV clerk to the beginning of World War III.

...

Squalls marched across the open plane of the vast rooftop. Rain that had begun falling nearly vertically was almost immediately pushed into a steep slant by gusts approaching perilous velocity.

"You're out of luck, Marie!" he yelled against the din of wind driven water, "My team and HPD are going to be here any moment! There's no way for you to escape! Just give up so we can get out of this storm!"

"You still don't know me all that well! If you did, you'd realize that I'm never, ever, going to give up and go quietly! Those days are over!" she yelled back, shielding her eyes from the water that pelted hard enough to sting when it hit bare skin. The only way to keep from being battered was to lower ones head and hunch over against its force. This was going to have to be resolved before they either drowned or were swept off the roof by the driving wind.

"I don't want to hurt you, Marie! Give yourself up now before this escalates into something we're both going to regret!"

"How could I regret anything with you?!, she yelled back, "Unless it's that we won't have the chance to get together one more time! We could just forget this and go find a warm, dry, hotel room!" she flashed a grin, blinking against the water cascading down her face.

"You overestimate your appeal, Marie! If you think I'm going to let you leave here, you'd better think again! Surrender before you get hurt!"

He hadn't much hope that she'd just let him take her into custody. She's as skilled and determined as he himself. The woman didn't get to be a successful assassin without some major skills. But still, he wouldn't shoot her unless she gave him no choice. Their time together had to count for something, shouldn't it? If not, he was no better than she.

A sudden monstrous gust tore loose a section of aluminum from the cowling of a rooftop AC unit. The huge piece of debris became airborne, landing with a crash between them; narrowly missing him with it's sharp edge. His flinching away from it gave just enough time for Marie to make her move.

Diving for the rifle, she snatched it up, intending to take cover behind an enormous ventilation pipe a few feet to her right but Steve snapped off a shot that managed to find its target. She yelped and, still clutching the rifle, rolled behind a small boxy structure enclosing a cable hub.

Crouching to make himself a smaller target, Steve scuttled away to take cover behind the air conditioner that had lost its cowling.

She didn't feel much pain yet but looking down at her hoodie she could see that a dark stain had begun to spread. Pulling up the hem of the jacket and the shirt beneath, she squinted at the bleeding groove carved across her ribs by McGarrett's bullet. It was ugly but nowhere near fatal. The pain could be ignored but the rainwater made the wound look all the more bloody. _Hmm,_ she thought as an idea took shape and she couldn't help the smile that curved her lips.

"You shot me, you bastard!" she yelled from her concealment.

"Give yourself up and I can get you help!" he yelled back.

"You know I don't give up!" She responded, coughing out the reply in what she hoped was a convincing way.

"So, you'd rather bleed to death? I thought you had more brains than that, Marie!"

She waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time; letting McGarrett think that she was mulling over his statement. Finally, she called out against the driving storm, coughing again, managing to make it sound wet and ragged, "Alright, you win this time!"

"Throw that rifle out . . . and any other gun you've got on you!" he ordered.

She reluctantly laid the rifle down once again and gave it a push, wincing as it scraped over the rough surface of the roofing material. Oh, well. With the money she's getting she can get a new one. It's just that this is the favorite of all her 'tools'. Well, it and the other weapon she's got plans for.

He watched as the rifle spun across the rooftop, coming to rest several feet away from where Marie had taken cover.

"Now the other gun I know you must have!" he ordered, knowing that someone as 'prepared' as she wouldn't go about without an insurance weapon.

After another moment, a small 9 mil was tossed out as well; coming to rest in a big puddle.

Rising cautiously, blinking water out of his eyes, he approached her position. Still holding his Sig in front of him he rounded the small structure and saw Marie slumped gasping against its metal siding. Her hand was pressed to her left side where water soaked clothing was a bright red.

"Help will be here in a minute. Just hold on." he said, unable to keep worry out of his voice as he bent to look more closely at the wounded woman.

"I'm so cold." she moaned blinking up at him.

"Yeah, you're soaked. Let's get you out of this rain so I can check the damage. Can you walk?" He asked, peering down at her, his gun still trained on her heart despite his concern. She didn't look very dangerous right now; being pale as a fish belly, her side stained crimson from ribs to knee, but he wasn't going to holster his gun.

"Yeah, maybe." she replied, starting to struggle to her feet.

Reaching under one of her arms, he pulled her upward. She leaned heavily against him, clutching his bicep with both hands as they managed to hobble a few feet toward the shelter of the stairway entrance. Nearly there, Marie suddenly lost her grip on his arm and sagged toward the rooftop.

Cursing, he holstered his gun and used both hands to keep her upright, throwing one of her arms over his shoulder he held onto her wrist and gripped her belt with his other hand. They staggered several more steps; reaching their goal of shelter when he felt her body stiffen. Before he could grab his gun she'd straightened, and stepped away from him.

It was then that he saw the blade. Long and slim and shiny, it dangled from the fingers of her right hand; red liquid dripping off its tip.

"I'm so sorry, mon cher." she said; eyes huge and dark and sad in her pale face. Dropping her gaze, she stared at the front of his shirt.

He looked down to see a stain spreading like a red blossom that grew larger by the second.

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 **Please review despite my lack of timeliness. I would very much appreciate knowing that people are still reading this.**


	14. Red

I'm No Angel

Chapter 14

 **Okay, my little savages; you wanted whump, you got whump. I know it took forever to get this posted but blame it on Husband. In case you didn't know, hospitals are not the best places to hang if you want to avoid catching the flu . . . trust me. To those readers who work in the health-care profession – you guys are BRAVE! Thanks so much for being there.**

 **SPNGran looked at the first four drafts of this but Imaginary Beta did the final one. Sorry about that.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't get paid for this. It's just a way to deal with insomnia and frustrating dreams of tall, dark, handsome guys with long eyelashes and tat** **s.**

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 **Red**

Lightning zig-zagged across a graphite sky and thunder shook the stairwell as the light over the landing blinked out. The hurricane's back wall is now sweeping over the island. Intermission over, Alika has returned with a vengeance.

He hadn't felt the blade but he knows what she'd done – slipped it between his ribs; angling it to go through a lung to pierce his heart. It's what he himself had been trained to do. He wonders why he's still alive.

Turning to stagger back out into the rain, he grabs for the weapon still on his hip. His fingers close around its grip but, as the Sig clears the holster, he loses his balance and goes down hard; elbow slamming onto the roof.

The force of the collision numbs his fingers and he loses his hold on the gun. "Fuck!" he grunts as it skitters across the wet, asphalt-covered, roof. Blinking furiously against the wind-driven deluge, he braces his hands against the surface beneath him and tries to get to his feet. The effort is to no avail. It feels as though he has a hundred-pound pack on his back.

 _It's raining hard enough to pin me_ _down_ _!_ he thinks; brain working no better than his uncooperative body. It's hard to take a breath. A soggy rattle in his chest tells him that Marie was at least partially successful – his lung is filling with blood.

He's somehow aware she hasn't followed. Squinting against the water hammering face and body he risks a quick glance over his shoulder and sees her watching from the roof access doorway. _Probably waiting for blood loss to finish the job,_ he thinks. As though to prove the theory, a deep hack produces a crimson spray that disperses into the torrent. He tries to swear but liquid only bubbles at his lips. On hands and knees he crawls after the gun as air rattles in his chest and the taste of salt and copper fills his mouth.

…..

She stood watching her former lover as he fought to stay on his feet before crashing down and losing his gun. Unable to get up, he'd resorted to crawling.

 _He won't get far_ , _s_ he thinks. He should have been gone almost instantly but the tip of the blade had obviously missed his heart. She's disappointed in herself for failing at something she'd done successfully so many times before. Having long ago perfected her skills, she'd wanted to make it as quick and painless as possible for him – the sailor deserved that much at least.

It was a different method than the one she'd used on the Lozano job. The Rios had wanted to make their message clear – that the kid's father needed to keep his mouth shut. A severed carotid certainly made the point but she'd wanted death to be kinder to the sailor. By inserting a blade at the precise space between his ribs there would have been little pain before his heart would stop. It was a kindness she could do for him. There was no need for him to suffer.

….

Locating it more by feel than sight, his hand had landed on the Sig. Fingers closed on the wet grip as he gathered every ounce of remaining strength to lurch to his feet.

Though now it's nearly invisible through the blasting water, he'd earlier noted the maintenance shack at the far edge of the roof. Staggering toward it he stumbled halfway there and almost went down again. He knows his feeble burst of energy won't last long but if he can get to cover he can make a stand.

…..

She continued to observe as, despite her belief that he's at death's door, the sailor somehow managed to regain his feet. Unfortunately, he'd also managed to pick up his gun again.

 _Shit!_

She does admire his determination. She has no idea how he's managed to persevere. The man who continues to stagger onward despite sustaining a wound that will inevitably prove to be fatal is/was a more than worthy adversary.

At the restaurant she'd told that Rio de Muertes sleazeball she'd consider doing the job but she hadn't yet given the cartel her answer. They'd offered her a lot of money but, for reasons she was at a loss to explain even to herself, she was reluctant to take the assignment.

They wanted to kill the leader of the State of Hawaii's premier law enforcement agency as a warning to back-off their investigation. She'd told the moron that it didn't work the same way in the US. as it did in other places. Commander McGarrett's assassination may not accomplish anything other than to stir a hornet's nest. Rather than scaring them off, it would make them even more zealous in their pursuit of anyone involved in halting the bridge project.

But, of course, the toton wouldn't listen. She'd recognized his smug disdain, (it wasn't her first rodeo). In his mind he'd already dismissed her as a useful but inconsequential female; her skills limited to killing; not analyzing the politics of a situation. Without bothering to demonstrate her annoyance she'd thanked him for the meal and walked away thinking, _Oh, well. At least I scare the crap out of them._

Alika howls in triumph as her wind-speed increases and debris hurtles across the nearly barren expanse of rooftop. It's become ever more perilous to be out in the open. Whatever hadn't been blown away during the hurricane's first assault is in serious danger of losing its hold on the earth during her second.

"Perhaps it's time to put him out of his misery." she sighs to herself. She would do him that kindness. When maman had gotten so sick, she'd done the same for her. She didn't stab or shoot her of course. The woman was so weak that all it took was to briefly hold a pillow over her face. It was the one last thing; the only thing; she could do for the sole human being who, despite her failings as a mother, had ever given a damn about her.

He's not that far away but she can barely make him out through the squalls dancing across the rooftop. It looks as though he's managed to make it all the way to a small maintenance structure of some sort.

She'd decided to remain philosophical about the situation. Though she was hesitant to do the job and it hadn't been deliberately planned, McGarrett's death would result in a bigger payday.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls the hood of her already soaked jacket tightly around her face and steps out into the storm.

Funny how things work out sometimes.

….

With Kono driving like a bat out of hell through the city's flooding streets, they'd finally reached the intersection of King and Bishop; the location Steve had yelled into the phone.

There are three buildings on this corner, the fourth being taken up by a sort of mini-park; trees and foliage whipping about in the wind; some of them flattened. Steve's pick-up, blue emergency lights blinking, sits in front of the concrete and glass structure diagonally across from the Bank of Hawaii. As it comes to a halt behind the Silverado, the SUV's occupants pour out to dash to the shelter of the building's recessed entryway.

Danny, ventures into the open to stand on the walkway. Hand shielding his eyes from the downpour, he stares up at the office tower eerily lit in silhouette when lightning splits the sky above it. Rushing back to the relative shelter of the doorway he exclaims, "If he's up there, he may be in trouble in more ways than one. This storm is causing all hell to break loose. I hope he's not out in the open on that rooftop."

Yelled Chin into the din of the storm. "We don't even know if it's the one he's on but it's got a clear view of the bank's front door so it's the most likely. I know that Capwell's CEO is supposed to be here today. A few minutes before we left HQ, I'd called to talk to him but he wasn't at his office. His admin said he had an appointment to meet with one of the bank's officers at two o'clock."

Danny wiped water from his eyes to glance at his watch. "It's two-thirty. Maybe the meeting's been canceled because of the storm. That would've been the smart thing to do." In the detective's opinion, anyone who'd voluntarily go out in this weather is _monumentally_ stupid.

But, even as they stood looking like drowned rats, a large town car pulled up to the curb in front of the bank. Its driver quickly got out to open the passenger door and hold an umbrella over the VIP as he or she exits. The device is no match for the wind and, caught by a strong gust, quickly turns inside out. The driver struggled with it but the storm won. He finally gave up; releasing his grip to let Alika take the ruined umbrella to wherever she would.

Two more men, bareheaded and beefy, had come to stand on either side of the emerging passenger. Obviously bodyguards; their eyes narrowed against the wind to rove across their surroundings. One of them leans into the vehicle and says something to its occupant. Shortly, his bulk enveloped in a trench coat and pompadour whipping about in disarray – a section of it lifting off as a clump to flap in the wind - their charge emerges from the town car. Trumble J. Donaldson had arrived.

In a display of purchased devotion, one of the guards whips off his raincoat to hold over his employer in an attempt to shield him from the deluge. It didn't really help. Though the storm's force is partially blunted by the structures of the concrete canyon surrounding them, a gust nearly tore it from his hands.

On the other side of the street Danny yelled to Kono, "Get over there and get that dickhead out of sight! Whatever Steve's onto has to involve him! Like Chin said, this building has a clear view of the bank!"

Though it's doubtful that anyone would attempt a shot through the chaos of the storm, the Hawaiian woman splashed across the flooding street. Donaldson's guards pull their guns at the sight of someone rushing toward them but Kono has her badge out and is identifying herself as Five-0 before anyone does something rash.

Danny waves Chin toward the multi-story structure on the other corner as he himself charges into the building they'd parked in front of. Rushing across the lobby to the elevator bank he punches the button for the top floor.

…...

He'd finally reached shelter. Thankfully the door hadn't been locked but, when he pulled it open, the wind caught it and slammed it into the side of the metal shack. He fell into the opening and collapsed onto the floor as the wind howled around the small building. He could hear debris bouncing off its sides.

Coughing uncontrollably, bright red splats land on the shed's plywood flooring. Trembling with the effort he grabbed onto the shelving next to where he lay to pull himself upright. He has to keep it together long enough for his team to find him. It's only then that his hazy mind registers that his cell must still be in his pocket. Still holding onto the shelving for support, with the other had he shakily patted over the pockets of his soaked pants until he felt the oblong shape of his phone. Concentrating mightily so that he wouldn't drop it, he finally managed to pull it free from the wet cloth. Shaking so badly that it takes more than one try to punch speed dial, he presses the phone to his ear as shivers roll through him hard enough to upset his balance.

There seems to be an interminable delay, (possibly the result of the storm), before the device makes the sound that says he's accomplished an outgoing call. Objects, some of them sounding quite large, continue to clang against the sides of the metal-walled shack and he nearly misses Danny's frantic greeting.

"Steve! Where the hell are you!" he hears through the staticy link.

"Danny" croaks McGarrett, "I'm in the . . . " a cough interrupts him, "the main'nce shack on th' roof!" Another coughing spasm doubles him over as blood fills his mouth. The slippery qualities of water and blood have made the phone nearly impossible to hold onto and it slips from his weakening grip. Previously intermittent black spots gather to blot out his vision almost completely as he continues to hack out frothy splats of red onto the floor. He hopes Danny heard him.

"You are certainly a tough one, mon loup." comes a voice from behind him.

…..

Even the din of the storm can't be heard in the elevator. The ascending box is silent for all but an instrumental version of 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head'. Nerves already stretched tight, the inanity of the tune irritates the crap out of him and it's all Danny can do to control the urge to draw his gun and use it to execute the speaker mounted in the ceiling panels. He'd be totally fucked if the power to all of downtown goes kablooey like it has in other parts of the island. Besides exacerbating his barely under control claustrophobia, the loss of power would delay any assistance his partner may need. Being trapped in an elevator would be a nightmare.

 _Well, at least I won't have to listen to that friggin' music!_ he thinks in an attempt at self-consolation.

The sound of his phone ringing in the enclosed compartment seems extraordinarily loud and it startles him. It's a wonder there's even a signal in here but the building probably has a cell tower on its roof – at least for now. Judging by news reports, winds are wreaking mayhem on the island and Alika may carry it off any moment now.

Slipping the device from his pocket he sees the caller ID – a photo of his peripatetic partner. Nearly dizzy with relief, he exclaims, "Steve! You schmuck! Where the hell are you!?"

Between alarmingly wet sounding coughs accompanied by someone banging on an aluminum garage door with a shovel, he hears the words, 'shack' and 'roof'.

"Steve! What's going on! Steve!" he yells into the phone before it goes dead. He tries not to panic. Maybe the storm interrupted cell service. Concentrating on his breathing, he tries to stay to calm as he stares up at the indicator above the door. Finally, the chime tells him he's reached the 28th floor and the doors are about to slide open. There should be quick access to the roof from this top floor.

Rushing from the elevator he mutters, "You better be okay when I get there, dammit!", as he draws his H&K from its holster and thumbs off the safety.

Thunder rolls in the distance.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Sorry to end on such a cliffie and I know I've said this before but I'm planning on one more chapter. As usual, a story got away from me and it's far longer than intended.**

 **Note: To those whose watch-lists I'm now on because I've Googled subjects like: 'how to kill with a knife', 'best sniper rifles', 'high-rise buildings in Honolulu', etc.; I'm not planning any mayhem. All are safe from one too lazy to get off her butt to cause trouble.**

 **Reviews would be much, much, much appreciated.**


	15. Howl

I'm No Angel

Chapter 15

 **Here's a nice long one. Tried to crank this out as quickly as I could but, besides having the attention span of a three-year-old with an espresso filled sippee cup, I'm a reeaaallyy slooow writer. (Yes, I'm aware there's some sort of dichotomy there). To those who've taken the time to review, follow and/or favorite - Mahalo. Thanks also to everyone still reading this damned thing even if they haven't commented.**

 **The much put upon SPNGran should be acknowledged as co-author of this chapter. She came up with several brilliant suggestions that saved me from my own machinations.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't get paid for writing this stuff. Only do it to keep Not-So-Ninja-Cat from taking up permanent residence on my keyboard.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Howl**

As soon as he walked out of the elevator he could feel air moving through the top floor corridor. _I have a really bad feeling,_ he thinks. Hallways in buildings like this don't usually have a breeze flowing through them.

Quickly spotting the sign marking the location of the emergency stairwell he strides toward it. Reaching the fire-proof door, he starts to push against the mechanism that opens it but hesitates. There's an eerie moaning coming from the other side. Taking a breath, he cautiously leans against the panic bar and the door opens a few inches. Immediately, he's assaulted by a soggy wind that whips past him. Pushing it open the rest of the way, he squints against the strong current of air to see water trickling down the risers leading to the roof.

Rushing up the short stairway, he turns the corner at the landing and a powerful spray hits him in the face. With a hand up to keep the water out of his eyes, he climbs the last four steps and halts at the open doorway. He doubts the storm had blown the heavy steel door open but, right now, the thing is banging against the side of the access enclosure as though it's made of balsa wood.

 _Definitely_ _not a good sign_.

The wind tries to push him back into the stairwell but he grabs the door frame with one hand while holding his gun with the other and propels himself forward. As though from a fire hose, the wind-driven water blasts him on the open roof. Shielding his face, he peers through the deluge and spots movement in the distance. Someone is making their way toward a small structure on the western edge of the roof.

Moving out to follow whoever it is, he dodges foliage Alika had snatched from somewhere several stories below to deposit atop the office tower. Had the toothed-edged palm frond hit him it would have been painful. With a curse, he takes cover on the leeward side of a huge HVAC unit that had lost most of its aluminum cladding. Pulling out his phone, he punches speed dial for Chin Ho Kelly.

There's no earthly reason for anyone to be on this roof right now unless they were certifiable. So, it's definite then that Steve is up here somewhere. He couldn't tell if the figure he saw was his idiot partner or not but it would have been no use calling out. His words would have been snatched by the wind.

Not able to hear if his phone is even ringing on the other end, he finally hears a faint voice. The connection is really staticy so he yells into the phone, "Chin! Get up here to the roof! Bring Kono! Something's going on and it's not good!"

Not waiting for an answer, he shoves the cell back into a sodden pocket, takes a stronger grip on his H&K, and steps out from behind his shelter. Leaning into the wind he stalks toward the shed in the distance.

…..

"I have no idea how you are still on your feet, mon cher." she clucks sympathetically as she watches him sway. A trail of crimson trickles from his lips to his chin and drips onto the front of a stained shirt. It's hard to tell how much of the bright crimson is blood and how much is water. She'd bet the blood/water ratio is much more ominous for the sailor than it had been for herself. With her, it had been mostly cosmetic but that doesn't look to be the case here.

Her former paramour stands with his back braced against shelves holding cans of paint. Skin chalky-white, he pants as though there's not enough oxygen in the small shed. His gun hand is far from steady but at this distance she knows there's no way for him to miss should he pull the trigger.

Her own gun is unwaveringly pointed at its target – the center of his chest. "I'm so sorry it had to come to this." she said with a sad smile. "I was hoping our relationship would remain apart from our work."

"Guess we screwed that up then." he carefully responds; trying not to trigger another round of coughing.

"So, the question now is what am I going to do with you? You know, no one in law enforcement has ever seen Eidolon." she said, "I mean no one that's still alive", she quickly amended.

"Guess I'm the . . . lucky one then." he panted. While not necessarily referring to the 'still alive' part of her statement, he hoped to keep himself that way.

"Perhaps so." she replied, "No one else even knows the _legendary_ assassin is a woman." The adjective amused her. "You're the only one to have figured that out."

"Like I said . . . lucky." he grinned through blood-stained teeth. Her face wavered in vision becoming increasingly iffy as the minutes pass but it's good enough to see her expression become one of appraisal. He knows Marie is trying to decide if she should finish the job or just let him die on his own. Even if this doesn't turn out in his favor, he intends to do his best to not make it easy for her.

"I do wish this could have turned out differently." she said, actually sounding sincere. "I wish we could have met as different people who'd led different lives."

"That's only how it works in . . . the movies." he replied. His gun hand is now shaking badly. It's taking way too much effort to keep the Sig trained on its target.

"You poor thing. You must be so tired." she sadly sighed. "It will be so much easier, my sailor, if you just give in."

"Not . . . gonna happen." he pants, breath bubbling in his chest. She knows he's at the end of his rope but he's trying desperately to hang on until his team gets here; if not in time to save him, then in time to catch an assassin.

Alika howls in frustration at not being able to unmoor the shed and sail if off the roof. Inside, it grows ever darker as rain pours through the open doorway. Blowing debris clangs and thuds when it hits metal siding while the door of their shelter slams madly against it. It sounds as though they're trapped inside a big metal drum.

It's hard to see her expression now in the darkness but he knows she's watching . . . waiting for him to die. Another round of hacking seizes him and his grip weakens. He wants to say something but there's no breath to push the words toward her.

The gun slips from his fingers and falls to the floor; the clatter of its landing lost in Alika's roar.

..…...….

The sailor's collapse is slow and liquid as though a cord lashing his bones together had been cut and the force keeping him upright flows out through its severed ends.

Her somber gaze follows him to to the floor.

He can see her standing over him as his hand scrabbles fruitlessly beside him in search of the lost weapon. _She actually looks sad,_ he thinks before anger floods through him. _Fuck her!_

Now nearly impossible to take a breath, he hasn't even the strength to cough out the coppery liquid that fills his mouth. He knows his team won't get here in time. Someone else will have to stop her. She's won.

She coolly observes him as he stares back at her; lids at half mast. She knows he'll be gone soon.

The look he gives her before his eyes close for the final time appears to be more of resignation than accusation. _Strange_ , she thinks as something foreign wells inside her. Her brain barely registers the din of the storm raging around them. Perhaps it's shouting in triumph, perhaps it's keening for the dead.

There's really no need to even pick up a weapon he isn't capable of using but she bent to retrieve it; stopping to trail her fingers lightly over the side of his face. His skin is cold. The sadness that suddenly overwhelms her has never happened before. It's puzzling.

Muttering to herself about her 'weakness', she picks up the Sig and tucks it into the back of her waistband. With one last look at the one lying pale and still she turns and charges out into the storm to make her way back toward the stairwell. Vision blurred, she doesn't see the man who rounds the corner a half second before her departure.

...

He's almost reached his destination. Head down and looking up only intermittently, he needs to see where he's going but, at the same time, shield himself from the storm's battering. Gun held in front of him he arrives just as someone who isn't Steve disappears around the corner of the shack. A brief flash of a tall person wearing a water-soaked hoodie and sand colored pants is all he saw.

Finger on trigger, he takes a quick peek into the doorway of the shack as rain pours through the opening. He wishes he had a tac light like Steve's on his Sig; it would come in handy right now.

At first he doesn't see anything but, as his eyes adjust to the dimness, he can see a body on the floor. His breath catches, he knows it's his partner.

He can't see anyone else in the small space; there's really no room to hide. "Steve!" he exclaims but the only sound is that of wind-driven debris clanging and banging against the shack's siding.

He kneels and his fingers quickly find the artery that will tell him if his partner is still alive . . . or not. His own heart hammers madly as he adjusts his touch when he can't immediately feel anything beneath the clammy skin of Steve's neck. Finally, he locates a weak throbbing that's way too fast and way too faint.

"What have you gotten into this time, Steven." he mutters as he fumbles for his phone. It's now nearly pitch black in the small space but he has no idea if there's a light switch or even if the power is still on. Thumbing on its flashlight feature, he aims it at his motionless partner.

"Shit!" he exclaims. A familiar light blue shirt is now a much darker color. Danny's horrified to see that Steve must have been coughing up blood – a lot of it. He gently tilts his friend's face toward him. Skin startlingly white, crimson trails down the side of it past his ear and onto the floor. It's too noisy to hear his respirations but he can see Steve's chest rise and fall in an unsteady rhythm.

"Steve! Steven!" he calls and gets no response.

...

Chin and his cousin arrive at the lobby at the same time. Kono, breathless and water soaked, has the strands hair plastered to her face.

"Cuz!" exclaims the Hawaiian woman, "Should we even try the elevators? I'm surprised the power is still on. Shit's blowing around everywhere out there!"

As if in answer, there's a loud crack of thunder and a bright flash from the street outside. They're plunged into near darkness but it takes only brief seconds for the battery powered emergency lights to kick on. LEDs illuminate the lobby and exit signs glow at the end of the hallways branching off from it.

"Well, I guess that answers the question." said Chin as doors open and people desert their offices to straggle into the hallways. Being the idiots who'd ignored the TV weathercaster's warnings to stay home, there aren't that many of them.

Chin yells, "The storm is going full force outside with a lot of debris blowing around so you people are better off to keep away from the windows and stay in this interior hallway!" Then realizing that common sense may be in short supply among the bewildered looking workers he added, "It's safer in here! Don't try to make it home!" He knows that, at this point, sheltering in place is much more prudent than trying to leave while Alika is doing her best to wipe the island of its inhabitants.

"Are you guys cops?" calmly asks a guy in a tie-dye T-shirt; laid-back vibe, tanned skin, and sun-bleached mullet augmented by an incongruously impressive porn stache. Unruffled, he's regarding them from the middle of the hallway while chewing on a Snickers bar.

"Yes, we are." responds Chin. He'd usually identify himself first thing but his mind is on how to get where they're going. Climbing nearly thirty flights of stairs is apparently in their future.

"We're Five-0." adds Kono just in case it was needed. It wasn't.

"Cool." nods the stranger, making a one syllable word into two so that it came out "coo-wul".

Chin's cell buzzes and he pulls it from his shirt pocket. Through an erratic connection he hears, "Chin! Where are you guys?! You and Kono get your asses up to the roof! Steve's . . . bad . . . ! We're on the short-list . . . medics won't . . . any time soon! . . . help getting . . . downstairs!"

"Brah, what's happened?!" Chin asks the panicky sounding man as he motions for Kono to stand closer.

"I don't . . . but . . . coughed up . . . of blood . . . barely breathing! . . . have to carry . . ." the rest is lost as the intermittent connection finally goes dead.

He sounded frantic. Chin knows it's gotta be hard for him to remain calm. Danny and Steve are like brothers.

He tries calling him back but his phone's screen only displays the message, ' _Network is not in service'_. "Shit!" he exclaims before shoving the useless device back into his pocket. Turning to Kono he says, "We have to get to the roof right now! Sounds like Steve's in a bad way. Danny's gonna need us to help carry him downstairs. The connection was bad but I think he said Steve's coughing up blood and the paramedics won't be here for awhile yet."

Kono's face registered alarm but before she could say anything they heard, "You dudes need some help?"

Mr. Tie Dye is looking at them questioningly. Chin hesitates only briefly then answers, "Probably all that we can get. You up to climbing a whole lot of stairs?"

A wide grin splits the sun-weathered face. "Dude, I already did K-2 and Everest, so, stairway in an office building? No problemo."

Were it not for the seriousness of the situation, Chin would have smiled. He nodded at their new friend and they were off.

...

He watches as Steve's chest rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm. Even through the din of the storm, he thought he could hear the rasping, bubbly, sound of it.

He'd been patting his partner's face and calling his name but there was no response. Then, Steve winced as something particularly large thumped against the shed.

"Hey! Buddy! Talk to me!" beseeched the detective.

"Dan . . . Mm . . . Marie . . . gotta catch her. She . . . she's Eidolon!"

"Steve, what are you saying? Are you telling me that Marie is the assassin?" There was no confirming answer. Eyes closed, his partner panted for air.

Danny's reaction to the declaration was utter shock. Flabbergasted didn't even cover it. _Steve's hook-up is Eidolon? The idiot went after her alone!_

Willing himself to respond calmly, he assured the barely conscious man, "We'll get her. Don't worry. We just need to get your ass to the hospital. Help is coming. Chin and Kono are on their way. Just hold on for me okay? Can you do that for me?"

Steve managed a wan smile. "M'gonna try . . . is . . ." Whatever else the wounded man was going to say was lost in the gush of crimson that spilled from his lips.

"No, no, no!" exclaimed Danny. He struggled to pull Steve to a sitting position before he choked on his own blood then scooted behind him to hold him upright. With Danny's arms wrapped around him from behind Steve coughed and sputtered but at least he was getting some air. Danny could feel his friend's much too rapid heartbeat against his own chest.

He'd already checked for any obvious injuries but found only a small puncture mark on the left side of his upper chest. It was barely bleeding so he knew the damage had to be internal. He figured the bitch had tried to use a long, thin, blade to pierce Steve's heart but it first had to go through a lung.

He needed to check if cell reception had been restored. Maybe they'd rerouted signals or repaired a tower or some such shit. While using one hand to keep his partner from toppling over and fishing for his cell with the other, he heard his name being called. Looking up, he saw Chin, Kono, and a stranger crowd into the shed.

Alika was trying to drown them with noise as well as water. He yelled above her din, "We gotta get Steve outta here! He's losing blood!"

"What happened, Danny?!" asked Kono as she knelt on the floor beside them. Her hand went to Steve's forehead. The skin under her touch is disturbingly cool and clammy. The man is obviously in shock. She knew they had to move fast to get him some medical assistance.

"I don't really know!" Danny answered, raising his voice above the din, "He's been stabbed! The blade musta hit a lung because he's been coughing up a lot of blood! I could only find a small puncture wound on his chest and it's not even bleeding that much!"

"Do you know who did it?! Did he tell you?!" asked/yelled Chin.

"He said it was a woman named Marie! He said she's Eidolon!"

The cousins were dumbfounded; both at finding out Eidolon's identity and that the mythological assassin is female. But it was Chin who asked, "How did Steve find out?!"

Kono had her own questions: "And what is he doing here alone?! Why didn't he let us in on it?!"

"That's something we're going to ask him as soon as we can at the hospital!" answered Danny while thinking, _If the idiot doesn't die before then._ His throat tightened at the thought that his friend may not survive this but he put it out of his mind and said, "I saw someone disappearing around the corner when I got here! Did you guys see anything?!"

"No, brah! It's fierce out there! I had my head down for most of it!" answered Kono, distressed that she may have missed catching the one who tried to kill her friend.

"I saw someone!" said the stranger.

"Where!?" asked Danny, looking up from the floor, his arms still wrapped around his partner.

"They were hiding behind a big AC unit when we were on our way here!"

"And you didn't say anything?!" exclaimed Danny.

"Didn't know I was supposed to! I thought they were just trying to keep out of the wind! I'm not a cop, dude!" defended the stranger _almost_ losing his laid-back demeanor.

The Jersey detective didn't have time to ask who exactly the stranger is as Steve stirred and started to cough again.

"It's ok, boss! We're gonna get you downstairs and then to the hospital!" Kono tried to soothe but didn't know how calming her words would be considering she had to yell them. Steve's only response was a groan. With her hand on his chest she could feel his rattling inhales and exhales.

"The elevators aren't working, Danny! We had to hoof-it up here! It's not gonna be easy to get him downstairs!" yelled Chin.

"We could use some of that shelving to lay him on!" suggested the stranger. "It might make it easier to carry him!"

"Good idea, whoever you are!" replied Danny.

"Rain! My name is Rain!" he answered. "I know, dude! Ironic, huh?!"

"Only if your name is Hurricane!" snorted Danny. He spied something in the corner that could be of help. One of the others had also used their cell's flashlight to illuminate the interior of the shed. "Pull a few of those sacks over here!" he ordered.

Immediately realizing their intended purpose – to prop up the injured man so the little blonde guy could move from behind him – Rain hefted the big bags of plaster mix and laid them on the floor next to them.

Chin started shifting the five-gallon paint cans off the shelf in order to begin dismantling it. There were a couple of canvas tarps Kono discovered stacked on the opposite shelf and, with Rain's help, she shook them out then laid one next to Steve.

Patting Steve down to find the knife he always had stashed on him, Danny found it strapped to the SEAL's leg and pulled it from its sheath to hand to Rain. "Here, cut some strips so that we can tie him onto the board." he directed.

Taking it, the straggly newcomer got to work; quickly and efficiently cutting long strips to use as strapping.

Steve had gone completely quiet again. He made nary a sound as they carefully rolled him onto the tarp then used it to lift him onto the length of shelving Chin had placed next to him. Kono covered their leader with the second tarp, tucking it around his body before using the strips to tie him firmly to the board. She and Rain made use of additional lengths of canvas; carefully cross-fastening them to use as handles on the improvised stretcher. It would help make it easier to carry their awkward bundle down the stairwell.

Finally, all was ready. At a nod, the four lifted the stretcher from the floor and, heads down, stepped from their shelter into a storm bent upon sweeping them from the roof.

...

Marie, waited until they'd passed. Leaning into the wind, they staggered toward the stairway entrance. None of them would spot her because they all had their heads down and only occasionally looked up to make sure they were heading in the right direction.

She smiled at their perseverance. The make-do stretcher's shape deemed it aerodynamically unstable and they struggled to keep their balance as Alika tried to snatch it from them. Five-0's leader certainly had a loyal, if ragtag, team: a shrimpy blonde guy, an attractive Hawaiian woman, an equally attractive Hawaiian man, and a guy who looked like an escapee from a commune.

Oh, well. Despite their efforts, the sailor probably won't make it. It had been fun. Now all she has to do is figure a way off this roof without being discovered.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled as Alika howled. A hurricane can produce many different sounds; some of them quite eerie. Sometimes they moan, sometimes they scream, sometimes they sound like an oncoming train. This one sounds like it's laughing.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Would really appreciate your comments. Please throw this neurotically insecure doggy a bone, or a stick, or a sock; whatever.**


	16. Rain

I'm No Angel

Chapter 16

 **Okay, was seriously planning on this being the final chapter but have once again thwarted my own plans. This was inching toward a bazillion or so words and, rather than subject you to an overload of fabulousity, (only in SPNGran's opinion), I cut it in half. Am hoping to post the final chapter in a few days.**

 **Thank you all so very much for continuing to read. Special thanks to those who commented, favorited or followed. Your support is sincerely appreciated. Since** **SPNGran has a life, final proofing is courtesy of Imaginary Beta – heaven help us all.**

 **Disclaimer: Money for writing this stuff remains elusive but I still have that sign over my desk that says, 'Will work for reviews'. That's not a hint or anything . . .**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Rain**

 _Am I making that sound?_ he thinks as he's jarred and bumped along.

The surface on which he's lying is hard and doesn't feel like any kind of stretcher he's ever been on – and there've been a few. He tries to move but can't. His arms and legs seemed to be fastened down and there's no give in whatever is binding them. Rough textured cloth that smells like paint covers his face and he wants to tell them to take it away but there's no breath for words. There's a bubbly feeling in his chest and he tastes copper and salt. _That can't be good,_ he thinks. The wind's mournful lament surrounds him and grows briefly louder before fading as he returns to silence and darkness.

…...….

Like a cat toying with five unfortunate mice, Alika intermittently pushes them off-balance; they struggle to stay on their feet. Missiles of miscellaneous debris strike with enough force to sting if not to actually cut into their skins.

The process of getting Steve off the roof is harrowing. The storm is doing its best to wrest the makeshift stretcher from its bearers. More than once, like the wing of a plane, it nearly takes flight. The canvas handles fashioned by Kono and their new friend Rain are the only reason they're able to keep their holds and not lose their burden to the wind.

Finally reaching the stairway entrance, they set Steve down to rest for a brief moment. Chin's valiant attempt to pull the door shut behind them is unsuccessful. The wind has pinned it against the side of the stairwell enclosure and isn't letting it budge. He gives up with a curse before saying, "Let's get going before this fucking storm blows us off this roof!"

Their journey accompanied by Alika's frustrated howling, the team once again hefts the improvised stretcher.

The five begin their trek down the stairwell.

…...…..

Stuck on the rooftop for nearly an hour now, she's soaked to the bone and her side is throbbing. The chance of meeting someone in the stairwell, especially the sailor's people at least two of whom must be armed, makes it an iffy escape route.

 _I've got to find another way off this fucking roof!_ thinks Marie as she peers over the edge of the parapet. _It looks like a fucking river down there!_

The flotsam and jetsam Alika had been busy gathering is blocking storm drains. Honolulu's streets are becoming raging torrents despite having been designed for heavy runoff and flood control.

Using a hand to shield her eyes from the pounding rain she peers outward rather than downward; calculating trajectory and distance.

…...

Kono called a halt to check on Steve. Once or twice she thought she'd heard him cry out but it was hard to tell. The wind blowing through the stairwell made a helluva lot of noise. They set down the litter on the landing of the 24th floor. While the others take a breather, the Hawaiian woman lifts the protective canvas to check Steve's condition.

Alarmed to see he'd coughed up more blood and may be in danger of choking on it, she exclaims, "We've gotta get him on his side!"

Rain immediately begins to untie the straps. Once the bindings are loosened, they roll the injured man into a version of the recovery position. Kono removed her water-logged jacket; using the denim to wipe blood from Steve's face before balling it up to tuck behind him. She motions for Chin to shed his outerwear as well which he quickly does and hands to her. Danny removes his button-down while Rain pulls off his T-shirt to donate to the cause. Rolling up the clothing in the extra canvas that had been tucked under his body, she uses it to keep Steve propped on his side. Hoping the improvisation will be sufficient, they once again secure him to the board

Hefting their burden they continue the journey to the ground floor.

…..

Thoughts of the sailor briefly flash through her mind. She wonders if he's still alive. It isn't likely.

She should just have put him out of his misery. Strangely, unlike every previous time the pull of a trigger finished a job, she just couldn't do it. An unfamiliar emotion had washed over her as her finger had begun to tighten on the cold metal.

 _Regret._

Like rain sluicing down from the blackened sky, a feeling of ' _if only...'_ had washed over her. She'd nearly gasped at its suddenness. Something she'd never experienced with any other; it's foreign and painful. Blinking at the burn of incipient tears she thinks, _At least I won't have to watch him die._

Then, just as suddenly, a flash of a much more familiar emotion rolls upward from her gut. Her weakness angers her. "This is just stupid!" she mutters.

There are far more important things to think about. She can't stay on this roof; she'll either drown or get clocked by flying debris. There has to be another way out of here and it has to happen soon. _This fucking hurricane has gotta be stalled directly over the damned building!_ thinks Marie.

As if taunting her the wind shouts and screams.

Ignoring the storm's antipathy, the assassin's dark eyes narrow as she calculates. _Hmm. The roof next door is lower than this one, that's a plus. I've leaped longer distances. If this wind would only let up for a few seconds, with a running start it should be easy._

As if in answer to her wishes, the storm seems to comply. The wind, suddenly and miraculously, ceases. The torrent which had been blowing almost horizontally eases to barely more than a drizzle that begins to fall gently and straight down.

Confident of her success, Marie takes a few steps backward. Calculating her trajectory, she aligns herself for the leap. Elegant muscles tensing in preparation, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Taking another, she holds it momentarily then explodes into a sprint toward the edge of the roof.

At that moment, just as suddenly as its cessation, the wind returns with a vengeance. The sound it makes blowing through the concrete canyons below is eerily like laughter.

…...

They'd gotten all the way down to the 14th floor when the fire department meets them in the stairwell.

"What's happened here?" barks the smallest of the firefighters clad in emergency gear.

"He's uh, he's been stabbed." breathlessly gasps Danny. "We're Five-0. This is..."

Exclaims the firefighter/paramedic as she removes her helmet then crouches to pull the covering from the patient's face, "It's McGarrett!" She's familiar with Five-0's leader but it's usually because someone he's apprehended needs her services.

Tersely calling out stats to one another, she and her partner assess their patient and establish not one, but two, IV's. Those who'd carried him from the roof, though not health-care professionals, recognize that the valuations and the need for two lines are far from positive. Steve is in dire straights.

Satisfied they'd done all they could before beginning transport, the firefighters lifted him from the improvised stretcher to a Stokes basket. I would lessen the chance of additional injury while transporting their patient the rest of the way to the ground floor. Unfortunately, there isn't enough clearance in the stairwell to use a rope and pulley system to get him down faster. They'd have to do it the old-fashioned way.

With the injured man now in the hands of those far better equipped and much more experienced in such endeavors, Danny, Chin, Kono, and Rain straggle behind four burly firefighters who'd hefted the basket to carry Steve down the stairwell.

…...

They were only allowed in the cramped ICU for ten minutes every hour and only one visitor at a time.

This being his turn, he felt both relief and anger as he stared down at the one surrounded by beeping, clicking, and hissing medical devices. Danny Williams is immensely relieved that his best friend is still alive and actually improving but, when Steve is up to it, there's going to be a serious conversation. This time, Steve had almost tipped over the edge into the Great Beyond.

Other things had improved as well in the three hours since they'd arrived at Tripler. If there had been windows in the Intensive Care cubicles, the place would be flooded with glorious sunlight. The maelstrom had finally passed; the last of it now dissipating over the Pacific.

Alika had wrecked a lot of things. Among them a carefully crafted hairdo; its beleaguered blonde strands now hanging limp. If Steve were awake, he'd surely be making smart-assed comments about product that wasn't hurricane proof. There's also clothing to be made fun of. The button-down shirt retrieved from the stretcher is now dry but perhaps terminally wrinkled. None of them had gone home to change and even Kono looked bedraggled.

An hour ago she'd told him told him that Steve had stirred when she put her hand on his forehead but he'd immediately gone back to sleep. Danny took the news to mean that, though his partner still looks to be at death's door, at least he's fighting his way toward consciousness. But the hollows under his eyes remain a disturbing shade of blue and his lips are nearly the same color.

The doctor told them that, despite appearances, their friend and leader is doing fairly well. Dr. Nakamura admitted it could have gone the other way. By the time they'd gotten Steve to the hospital his BP had pretty much bottomed out. The fact he'd arrived with a heartbeat, however feeble, had given him a fighting chance. The surgery to repair damaged blood vessels had been completed and he's fairly stable now. Except for the knife wound itself and a couple small incisions required for laparoscopic surgery, there wouldn't even be much additional scarring added to his patient's already somewhat battle-scarred body. As soon as Steve wakes and can be given a neuro-check, (its necessity due to concern over lack of oxygen when he'd briefly stopped breathing in the ambulance), they can assess for brain damage.

Danny's relieved and possibly inappropriate remark upon hearing it: "He's probably no more brain-damaged than usual."

The doctor had actually chuckled before frowning.

Startled when the phone in his pocket blared out it current ringtone for HPD, he looked apologetically at the nurse who'd just bustled in with something to add to Steve's IV. She gave him a stern glare and pointed to the hallway.

The detective rolled his eyes but his ten minutes were up anyway. He stepped out of the glass-walled cubicle and strode down the hallway and out of the ICU doors to take the call.

…...

He remembers the smell of paint but the air at this moment is medicinal smelling. Its dryness makes his nose itch and irritates an already raspy throat.

 _Oh, well. Can't do anything about it right now,_ he thinks mellowly.

It feels as though he's floating . . . it's nice . . . peaceful . . . nothing hurts. He lays there for a while longer, enjoying what must be some really good drugs but there's an annoying beeping sound that keeps breaking into his comfy cocoon.

 _Make it stop,_ he thinks as the sound annoys him into a higher state of wakefulness. That's when he notices his mouth feels as though he's been chewing packing peanuts. He really wants some water. He tries to make his wish known but, rather than actual words, what comes out is a hoarse croak.

It doesn't get him any water but a hand smooths over his forehead. It feels good. He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes to find out who the hand belongs to. _Oh, well. Maybe later,_ he thinks as he drifts back into the darkness.

…...

"Yeah, Duke, what's happening?"

" _First off, how's Steve?"_ asked the veteran HPD sergeant.

"He's holding his own. He's already starting to stir so it might not be much longer until he comes-to and they can do a neuro check to see if he's lost any more of his marbles."

Though the Jersey detective couldn't see it, Duke Lukela smiled. The snarky humor means that worry over Steve's survival is lessening. _"That's really good news. Looks like_ _he_ _dodged another one."_

"Yeah but SuperSEAL's bulletproof hide has a few dents in it."

" _He'll just add them to all the others, Danny. He's not gonna change."_

"Sad but unfortunately true." sighed the detective. "Other than to ask about my fearless leader, did anything else prompt this call?"

" _Something I'm pretty certain pertains to what happened up on that roof. We found the body of a woman who'd fallen and landed on the canopy attached to a terrace of the building next door. It was the 20th floor. Looks like she may have been trying to make the leap between the two buildings and may even have had a chance to survive the fall but landed on a knife she had in her pocket."_

"Huh." Danny responded to acknowledge the news; pausing for a brief moment to digest it before asking. "This woman have any ID on her?"

" _Nope, nothing. Just the knife. Went straight through her heart."_

…...

It's hard to believe that things had changed so much in only a couple of days. Steve is on the mend, the storm had passed and Hawaii's inhabitants had emerged from their burrows to see what fierce winds and water had wrought. Many remarked on the unblemished blue of the sky, the brightness of the sun, and the exhilaratingly pristine air.

Other than the woman found dead on the terrace of a high-rise, Alika had killed no one and serious injuries were few. The weather bureau and the local news channels patted themselves on the back for their prescient forecasts. Honolulu's citizens patted themselves on the back for heeding the warnings. Ceremonies to let the appropriate deities know their protection had been much appreciated are being planned. All in all, minus a few roofs and trees the island would soon be back to normal.

Danny watched, ready to intervene, as his friend pawed at the oxygen cannula but his help wasn't needed. Steve gave up without dislodging it; hand dropping tiredly back to the bed. The patient's stats had generally improved but not enough to lose the supplemental oxygen which would be required for several more days until his lung healed enough to take up the slack.

Blinking groggily, Steve finally focused on the one who stood beside his bed. "Wha h'ppn'd?" he asked. Having regained consciousness for only brief moments in the ICU he obviously remembered none of it. This is the first time he'd been awake enough to ask a question.

"You got stabbed." answered Danny. "You're at Tripler. You're gonna be alright."

Nodding slightly without lifting his head from the pillow, Steve responded ""Kay . . .", then drifted off again.

 _Either he's enjoying the drugs or_ _maybe_ _all_ _he needs_ _is to be reassur_ _ed,_ _(or, maybe he knows what he's in for when he's finally fully cognizant),_ thinks the detective, surprised his partner didn't try harder to stay awake.

"You're not getting out of this one, Steven." he softly warns the sleeping man.

….…..

By the third day, Five-0's leader is more fully awake – not enough to cause trouble for his caregivers which is his usual MO but enough to actually hold a conversation.

When he'd been told of Rain's assistance in getting him off the roof, Steve said he wanted to thank him in person.

So today, one of those who thankfully hadn't heeded the forecaster's warnings is now standing in Steve's room in the step-down unit; a ward where patients are no longer critical but still need careful monitoring.

"This is the guy who helped get you off the roof during the storm." began Chin who then turned to the man beside to apologize, "I'm sorry, I never asked you for your full name to make the formal introduction."

"Well, you already know my first name but since it's not Cher, I'll tell you the rest of it." grinned Rain, white teeth flashing below his luxuriant porn-stache, "My last name is Waters."

Chin blinked once then turned back to the man in the bed to announce, "Steve McGarrett, may I introduce Rain Waters."

While the patient tried not to laugh, (mostly because it would hurt); his partner, (for once), had no comment.

 _T_ hought Danny as he valiantly stifled the urge to say it aloud, _It's n_ _o wonder_ _the guy's_ _probably been baked since he was a toddler! His parents were dicks for giving him that first nam_ _e!_

Once again attired in a tie dyed T-shirt - this one featuring a colorful illustration of a skeleton sitting amidst 'greenery' - Rain grinned at the man in the bed.

"Grateful Dead fan, huh." grinned Steve in return, gesturing to what is, no doubt, an homage to the band that had long had its place among the pantheon of stoner idols.

"Dude." replied Rain in an enthusiastic one word confirmation; his grin becoming impossibly wider, the word coming out 'duuude'.

Chuckling as they filed out the door, Five-0's teammates left to let the two men converse. They still had jobs to do – one in particular.

Gesturing for his new acquaintance to take a spot on the chair beside his bed, Steve said, "Thanks for all your help, Rain. Kono told me about your improvisation with the stretcher."

"Yeah, we totally MacGyvered it, man."

"I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, I'd probably have never made it off that roof. Where did you learn to be so resourceful?" asked Steve, genuinely wanting to know how his new acquaintance acquired his talent for making do with items at hand.

"Well, my folks didn't believe in buying things we could make on our own. They were kinda old-school hippy types. I grew up in a commune, if you can believe it"

Steve nodded seriously. How could he not believe it?

"They used to come up with some pretty whacky shit as substitutes for store-bought stuff but it got the job done. Then, I guess the military helped me refine the skills they taught me. Still comes in handy."

"Sure as hell did this time. You really helped to save my bacon, thanks." said Steve sincerely; offering his hand for a solemn shake.

"De nada, man." replied Rain. Self-consciously he took the other's outstretched hand to shake it firmly.

"What branch of the military?" asked Steve with curiosity.

"Army Rangers. They're totally gnarly."

"That they are . . . totally." agreed Steve who'd begun to think there's more to this weathered stoner than outward appearance indicates.

The visit went on for over an hour; the two swapping tales of adventures both military and civilian. It was only when Steve started to flag that they said their goodbyes with a promise to keep in touch. Both Steve McGarrett and Rain Waters had made a new friend.

…...

Chin, Kono, and Jerry have been busy trying to figure out who the mystery woman is. Until a few minutes ago, no one had gotten anywhere in their search. There'd been no hits in facial rec, (despite the fall, her features hadn't been damaged), and her fingerprints had also yielded naught. But in the midst of their frustration Max had called asking to speak with Five-0's commander. When told that Steve is in the hospital, their ME hesitated a moment then said. "Oh, that is unfortunate." Then after a longer pause than was normal even for him, he announced, "I have some information. When the commander is feeling better please notify me." Then he'd abruptly ended the call.

Of course, when Danny was told of this terse communication, his detective instincts kicked in hard. He knew there was something to be discovered regarding their ME and Five-0's leader. When questioned, Max resolutely refused to spill.

Today, Danny had gone to pick-up the reticent ME from his office. It was only with the promise of a shrimp tofu lunch at Kamekona's did the medical examiner agree to accompany the detective to the hospital. So, here they stand waiting for Steve to wake up again. After only ten minutes the patient starts to stir. He'd been a lot more 'with it' the last twenty-four hours.

Due to Tripler's vast experience with penetrating chest trauma, cardio-thoracic protocol had Steve stabilized fairly quickly considering the condition in which he'd arrived. The worry of the effects of oxygen deprivation had passed. It only remained now for their patient to heal with whatever supportive measures can be provided. Of course, _this_ patient is amazingly resilient, if not due to an indomitable constitution, then to his fierce determination to get the hell out of the hospital.

"Hey." he greeted as hazel eyes blinked open to focus on his visitors.

"Hey." greeted Danny.

"Commander McGarrett . . . Steve . . . it's very nice to see you relatively healthy, considering what I understand was a very serious injury." formally responded the ME.

Of course, as soon as the cobwebs finish clearing, Steve knows why Max is here. What he doesn't know is if he'd told Danny anything.

"Max says that he has some information for you. He wouldn't give it to us, even when we asked nicely." began Danny; face reflecting his annoyance at the close-mouthed man beside him. "He says he'll spill if he has your permission to do so."

Both men waited expectantly for a response; Max fully prepared to resist whatever manner of persuasion Detective Williams may subject him to should the commander refuse the request.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **For those who've been faithfully awaiting its completion, I'll be working on Cujo V after the last chapter of this story is posted.**


	17. Angelique

I'm No Angel

Chapter 17

 **Here's the final chapter. Maybe not as exciting as previous installments but I hope it ties everything up and that you'll enjoy it anyway. Please let me know what you think even if you didn't like it. I'd very much like to know what you thought of this 'different' story.**

 **This umpteenth version was proofed by Imaginary Beta. SPNGran managed to escape before I made her read it again.**

 **Disclaimer: No money was made and, other than a SEAL, no aquatic creatures were harmed in the telling of this story.**

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **Angelique**

Danny's ninety-nine percent certain that the woman found on the terrace is Marie but he'd chosen not to tell Steve until it was confirmed. Of course his friend would be pissed that he'd been 'protected' from the news but he wasn't in any shape to do anything about it.

That first day here at Tripler Steve had been unconscious and the second day, still out of it. The third day, after his visit from Rain, he'd gone into an exhausted sleep that had obviously been needed. Today, still paper pale, with a red flush on his cheekbones and glassy eyes, it looks as though he may have developed a fever.

Danny had thought about holding off the conversation until Steve was better but, like ripping off a band-aid, maybe it's best to just get it over with. Besides, if Five-0's ferociously strong-willed leader was to hear of it from someone else, he may very well get out of bed and beat the crap out of his second-in-command. He definitely wanted to avoid that scenario.

Steve looked to be asleep but stirred when he heard them enter the room.

Opening his eyes, he saw the detective and the M.E. standing expectantly beside the bed. He knows very well why the two are here together. Sitting up, Steve sighed and said resignedly, "Max, it's okay. Just tell Danny what he wants to know." When the M.E. didn't respond, Five-0's leader grinned slightly before clearing his throat and reiterating in an authoritative tone, "You have my official permission to divulge results from tests you conducted at my behest on the material I submitted to you."

The release of information had been officially sanctioned. Max gave a curt nod then turned toward the detective to begin: "The DNA on the water bottle the commander delivered to me on August 8th matches an individual in the Interpol database."

Danny waited for there to be more but it wasn't forthcoming. "Aannd . . ." he finally prompted as he made a rolling gesture with his hands that means 'get on with it already'.

Max glanced at Steve to see if he'd changed his mind but saw nothing to indicate he had. Taking a deep breath he said, "There was a 99 percent match to one Angelique Robideaux from Sacré-Coeur du Saguenay, Quebec, Canada." The French names rolled off the little M.E.'s tongue in a surprisingly facile manner.

"Where the hell is Sacre . . . what you said?" asked the Jersey detective who knew a little bit about Canada's geography but had never heard of Sacré-Coeur-whatever.

"It's about 300 miles northeast of Montreal." impatiently answered Steve. He was eager to get on with it as well.

Frowning at his pale partner, Danny said, "I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

At times nearly as abstruse as Jerry; Five-0's usual dispenser of trivia no one even knew they wanted; Steve could come up stuff like: what the hell's an eidolon, Afghanistan's opium production stats, that Kabul is safer than Detroit and that Oslo is safer still, (except for the danger of polar bears). So, _of course_ , the man knows the location of a little known town in a Canadian province thousands of miles away from Hawaii.

Turning to the formerly reticent M.E., the detective now on point like a dog who's spotted a squirrel asked, "So, why pray tell, is this woman in the database?"

No one had said anything about Marie being captured so the SEAL assumed she'd gotten away. It certainly wouldn't surprise him if she had. The woman has mad escape and evade skills.

"Angelique Robideaux was a suspect in the death of one Philippe Dufour who had disappeared from Sacré-Coeur in 1993. Though she was only fourteen at the time, there was testimony from several witnesses that she'd threatened him with bodily harm. Despite her young age, it made her suspect in his disappearance but nothing was ever proven. Ms. Robideaux had alleged that Mr. Dufour had repeatedly molested her since the age of six but her mother would not confirm the accusation. The mother is also deceased. She'd been ill for quite some time before succumbing."

Danny noted that his friend had grown even more pale, (if that was even possible), as the ME recited the disturbing history of Angelique Robideaux.

Cautiously he asked, "Steven, is the DNA you wanted Max to test . . . is it from Marie?"

Steve nodded, replying, "She was way too careful to leave prints. It was the only thing I had. She'd drunk from a plastic water bottle that I gave to Max for testing. I asked him not to say anything to anyone until I could figure this out."

After a pause to check again if the commander had changed his mind about the release of the information entrusted to him, Max quickly finished his summary. "The DNA also matches that of the woman found dead on the balcony of a high-rise five days ago."

Steve glanced up sharply at the M.E.'s last words.

"It um, it looks like she was trying to jump from one building to another." said Danny quietly to his friend, "She didn't make it."

Unaware of its implications, Max, in his usual clinical way continued with his report: "After an eight story fall, the decedent landed on an awning on the twentieth floor of a neighboring building. This could have made the incident survivable were it not for an unfortunate circumstance. A knife blade measuring 18.10 millimeters in length, I believe it to be a Canadian made V-42 stiletto," he added, going off on a slight tangent, "which had been concealed in a jacket pocket, was driven into her heart by the force of the impact." Nearly at the end of his recitation, the little M.E.'s eyes suddenly widened, "Oh.' he exclaimed.

Not a stupid man; just a sometimes clueless one, it had just dawned on him that this information may be upsetting. The commander had requested the matter remain private for a reason. He should have known that the reason was personal . . . as in relationship personal. Max cleared his throat and looked from one man to the other. The detective appeared concerned. The commander wore no expression whatsoever. In a softer voice he added, "Ms. Robideaux's death would have been nearly instantaneous."

Hearing news that could, from almost anyone else, elicit an emotional response, Steve merely nodded.

"Guess I really shouldn't be surprised", he said as his friends stared at him with somber curiosity.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly from side to side he thought, _Marie's life had been as fucked up as her death._

….

It had been over a week since his friend had been at death's door. Steve was finally well enough to fill in the blanks on the official report.

They hadn't yet had the chance to discuss Marie. The day that Steve had been told of her demise hadn't any time leftover for such things. On the way to driving Max back to the Medical Examiner's office, a call had come in that launched a cooperative mission between HPD and Five-0 to capture a man suspected of a series of rapes that had taken place all over the island. By the time the monster had been caught and thrown into lock-up and Five-0's second-in-command had finally driven back to the hospital, Steve was asleep, (or was pretending to be).

"You gonna talk to me?" asked Danny mildly as he stood holding two large paper cups containing the second best coffee on the island, (the best being Kono's brews at HQ). "Now that you're feeling a little better, I got a few things to ask you." He held out one of the cups to the man sitting propped up on the narrow bed.

"Is it mandatory?" asked Steve as he accepted the cup; tone indicating reluctance to engage in conversation of any sort. He's tired. Despite spending most of his time in bed, he'd gotten little sleep. Thoughts of recent events had continued to haunt him throughout the too long nights in hospital confinement. If he'd been able to, he'd have signed himself out AMA and gone home to lick his wounds or maybe use his downtime to get off the island completely and lose himself somewhere. The Governor had made it clear that the leader of his special task force wasn't to return to duty until completely recovered. Though they'd finally let him lose the oxygen cannula, he still had a wicked cough; a remnant of pneumonia. He has hope to be discharged in a couple more days but the doctor said the cough probably wouldn't go away for several weeks yet.

With yet to be sipped Maui blend cooling on the bed table beside him, Steve sat staring morosely out the window rather than at his partner. He knew Danny had only been holding off until he was well enough before badgering him about what had happened. He's doomed to have that conversation because it's Sunday and it isn't Danny's weekend to have the kids, so, here he sits . . . waiting.

Holding his own cup of liquid nirvana, the detective took a seat in the chair next to the bed. He's aware that it's going to be like pulling teeth to get Steve to talk but, so far, he has the time and, _hopefully,_ the patience. If he's needed at work, it better be for a damned good reason - like Honolulu being invaded by man eating tarantulas or something; (he'd seen those National Geographic specials on TV – it could happen).

Chin, Kono, and Jerry had been told not to come to work until Tuesday. The Governor's Special Task Force was on stand down. After the hectic activity and long hours of the last few weeks, faces look drawn and asses are dragging. With Lou still recuperating at home they are short-handed but having Five-0's fearless leader in the hurt locker as well is stress inducing; possibly more so than the stress generated by his being there. Despite his 2IC considering him an adrenaline addicted maniac, the man has always been the driving force behind them all. Without him, rather than being merely tired, they are disheartened.

So, yes, Steve is needed. But even if he's physically recovered, Danny isn't sure the idiot won't take up where he left off. The out-of-character behavior: evasiveness, evil temper, and general sluttiness had to have a reason behind it. Mind as well as body require recovery for the man to resume his job as head of Five-0.

For now, the man isn't going anywhere. Even if he could get out of bed, he wouldn't get ten feet before having to stop to take a breather. The lung issues are resolving much more slowly than their owner had hoped. Infection and a bout of pneumonia had kept him from leaving the hospital as planned. His mood may be no better than it had been when he'd been able-bodied but at least he now has a good excuse for his crankiness.

Danny cautiously began the dance. "You know, Steven, despite you being the worst poker player I've ever met, you've been a hard read these last few months. Maybe it's a good time to play a few games of Five Card Stud. You might actually win. You've been so stone-faced lately that you wouldn't give yourself away with that insane, mad-dog, expression you get when you're trying to bluff everyone into folding. You know it never works."

"I don't bluff. I call it weeding out the wusses." chuffed Steve.

While it's true that Five-0's leader is one who excels at pretty much anything ever undertaken, the man _suck_ _s_ at poker. 1. He has god awful luck. 2. Everyone knows he bluffs when he has absolutely no chance of holding the winning hand. Steve plays cards the way he storms a hideout full of bad guys; he's all-in no matter the odds.

Taking the mild levity as a possible opening, Danny bravely plunged into the deep end of the pool by bluntly asking, "So, Steven, exactly when did you know that Marie was Eidolon?"

Steve stared blankly at his partner for what seemed forever before deciding he may as well answer. He'd have to do it eventually. Best it be here rather than at H.Q. in front of his entire team. He's still trying to work out how to deal with any possible fallout from his disastrous choice of companions. It will need to addressed when he gets back to work – whenever that is.

"It was only after I put a few things together." It had begun to feel as though a band was tightening around his chest. It was uncomfortable and he tried to breathe more slowly.

"Like what?" asked Danny, trying not to sound like this was an interrogation, (which, technically, it may be.)

"Things like: the scent of her perfume on the Lozano boy's clothing, her presence on the island for nearly two weeks prior to the murders, what she wore the night of the kid's death . . ."

Danny actually looked startled at that last one.

Steve noted his partner's reaction but continued, "She um, she came to the office that night dressed all in black; boots, slacks, etcetera. Kono had called from the high school to tell me it's how the kid's friend described 'Colette's' appearance when he'd seen her from across the field. There were a few other things as well."

"And you didn't tell any of us your suspicions because?" asked Danny trying his best to not sound accusatory which was proving to be difficult. Steve could have avoided a lot of pain - at least physical pain - if he'd let them in on what he suspected. Going after her with back-up could have prevent the part where he ended up stabbed and left to bleed to death on a damned roof.

"I just didn't have anything concrete. I wanted to get something solid before I um . . . let you guys in on what I suspected."

"Um hmm." responded his partner; tone conveying his doubt about the motive for the delay. Perhaps the man was deluding himself. He'd been so - he didn't want to use the word 'obsessed' but it probably fit - with the woman that perhaps he'd been blind to the obvious.

Reading the disbelief in his partner's tone Steve exclaimed angrily, "Dammit, Danny, I didn't have any real evidence! Everything was still circumstantial! What was I going to say?! 'Hey, guys, I'm dating this woman who might be an assassin so why don't you join us on our next hook-up to see what you think!?'"

"At least you used the word _'dating'_." snorted Danny which earned him a glare.

"So, did anyone claim her body?" asked Steve, not really changing the subject but shifting its focus.

"No one. It seems her mother was her last living relative. I guess the famed Eidolon is destined to be interred here in Hawaii. The state will provide a marker."

"She sure had a shit life." said Steve glumly.

"Yeah, but it's how you deal with the shit that shows your true self."

"You got that from a fortune cookie, right?"

The two marinated in silence for another minute before McGarrett huffed in annoyance; the wheeze produced by the exhale indicative of his not yet conquered lung issues. Averting his eyes again to the sunlight streaming through the blinds he looked down before saying hesitantly, "Look, I um . . . I finally get it."

"Get what?" asked Danny, not sure where his friend was going with this. He set his cup on the bedside table and leaned forward to listen.

"You asked me if I knew the difference between love and sex. I thought I did but maybe I was wrong."

Danny thought he could see his friend's ears turn pink at the admission he may have erred in his interpretation. He waited quietly for more.

Perhaps realizing that Danny wasn't going to judge - at least not this time - Steve turned away from the window to look directly into the concerned blue eyes.

"Anyway, I . . . I know now what you were trying to tell me. I thought . . ." Pausing, his eyes became focused on images inaccessible to any other person in the room as he seemed to be organizing what he was going to say. After taking another deep breath, words suddenly tumbled forth in a rush. "You tried to tell me that sex is just sex but love is . . . something more; something everyone needs and looks for. I thought I had that with Cath; even Freddy told me so. He said it was the real deal and I wanted to believe him. I didn't say it until she called from Afghanistan but I always tried to show her that I did then when she came back she said she wanted something a relationship couldn't give her and was going to to go help earthquake victims in Nepal and then I told her I wouldn't wait and she told me she would always love me and I didn't say it back because I was so hurt and . . . I guess I blew it."

The detective nodded but though he was amazed, he remained silent. This was more words at one time than he'd ever heard from his friend. He wasn't going to break the spell.

"Then, after Cath, there was Lynn. She was just, I dunno, kind of there. I liked her a lot but ..."

"But she wasn't Catherine." filled in Danny.

"Yeah," he agreed, "she wasn't." Then more softly he added, "I guess no one could be."

"You okay?" asked Danny as Steve shifted position in bed; uncomfortable in more ways than one.

"Yeah." answered Steve, not knowing if his friend was asking about emotional or physical well being.

"So, that's what prompted your walk on the wild side with you know who?" asked Danny. Steve had gone silent again. He wasn't expecting an answer but apparently the well wasn't empty yet.

Resettled in the bed, Steve smoothed his blanket and fidgeted with the IV in the back of his hand before answering. "With Marie, I knew I was playing with fire but she was different; smart and tough like Cath but different."

"You could say that." readily agreed Danny. Despite his antipathy for the woman who broke his friend's heart, he went along with 'different'. At least Catherine Rollins wasn't an assassin, (at least as far as he knew).

"She was . . . I dunno . . . a way to forget maybe. There were certainly no expectations. I didn't have to be anyone's boyfriend, protector, whatever. When we spent time together it's like the rest of the world went away. I was so tired of . . . fighting . . . and losing. Nothing seemed to ever get better. As soon as we put one monster away, another would pop up. Sometimes this job . . . you know." Steve looked up at him, eyes now shining with tears he'd never allow to fall.

"Yeah, I do. I know, babe." replied his friend in total understanding. Their job could be really shitty sometimes and always exhausting.

Taking another wheezing breath, Steve continued. "Then, it got to be a sort of need. A way to feel free of all the crap; all the pictures in my head of maimed bodies, ruined lives . . . of dead children." Steve stopped, chest rising and falling rapidly as though he was trying to catch his breath.

Chewing on his lip, Danny remained silent for a long moment. Now, _he_ knew as well. The out-of-character, ultimately self-destructive behavior sadly made sense. His friend had been overwhelmed. After all these years of being the strong one, of maintaining the unwavering iron control that let him get the job done, after an entire life of self-sacrifice . . . . Steve had reached the end of his endurance. He'd had enough.

"Anyway, I know I've been an asshole. I'll try to clean up my act.' sighed Steve, tiredly running his hands over his face, IV tubing following the movement.

"You for sure haven't been a barrel of laughs, babe, but I'm not complaining." answered Danny, sounding like he believed is own words.

Steve snorted, "You not complaining? That's just too mind boggling to contemplate."

Choosing to ignore the dig for now, Danny said, "However painful it's been, try to think of it as a learning experience. And, maybe it was for your other woman as well."

"Other woman?" asked Steve, wondering if Danny was referring to Lynn, the one who'd called him an 'immature asshole' when they'd parted. _Maybe_ _she'd been_ _righ_ _t_.

"If Marie-slash-Whoever-slash-Angelique had remained true to her reputation as Eidolon, she wouldn't have blinked at finishing you off - but she didn't. She didn't pull the trigger. Maybe she'd gotten in touch with something as well."

"Didn't do her any good." replied Steve with a shake of his head.

"You both had the choice to sink or swim." Then shrugging he added, "Well, being a SEAL, you probably had no choice but to swim.. It's what you animals are made for."

"Yeah, maybe." said Steve with a small smile. He was getting tired; very, very, tired. _Who knew that '_ _growing_ _-up' could be so exhausting?_

Another long moment of silence filled the sun-drenched room as the clatter of dinner trays sounded from the hallway. Their forgotten cups of coffee now only lukewarm, still sat on the metal tray. Only Steve picked his up to take a few sips. Drinking cold coffee was nothing new. He rarely got to finish a cup before it had completely cooled. Having recovered a bit, he inhaled as deeply as he could to center himself. He needed to finish this 'unburdening' because he'd never speak of it again. It was time to let it all go.

"You know, it didn't work out but maybe I didn't give it a chance. I thought Cath felt the same way I did but neither of us would ever _say_ it. When I finally told her she said it back but maybe . . . maybe she felt she had to. We're a lot alike you know."

Turning his once again toward the window, his fingers idly tapped the cup he held as the orange glow of the setting sun gave color to a pale complexion. He didn't see the sadness on his partner's face.

Danny had nodded in confirmation that, indeed, his friend and the woman to whom he'd almost proposed were very much alike; two lifelong warriors who hadn't a clue how to live the way the majority of human beings do - with expectation they'd have time to establish a life together rather than make do with sporadic meetings between deployments until one of them, some tragic day, failed to show up.

Finally ready to comment he declared, "Just give yourself a break, Steven! I don't think either one of you had a clue! Maybe that's why you worked so well together. You found each other at a vulnerable point in your lives but she was the first to figure out there was something else that you needed to be looking for."

"But I thought if I said it . . . if I finally told her . . ." said Steve as he whipped his gaze from the window to the earnest man in the chair beside his bed.

Danny soothed. "It's okay to use the L word, babe. It's a really good word, well, so is 'Sex' but, deep down, love is what we all want. Actually, John Lennon said it's all we need."

"Alright," said Steve, red faced; more annoyed with himself than his partner, "If you're gonna start quoting song lyrics, I know it's time to stop."

"Hey, I could quote Bon Jovi if that'll make it easier for you." chuckled his partner.

"Not in this lifetime, asshole".

….

She lay before him, face unmarred. Hair black as a raven's wing in stark contrast to the flawless features that looked as though a skilled hand had carved them from marble. Even in death she was beautiful. Perhaps Eidolon had been an appropriate name; a Greek myth fashioned into a cold likeness – a beautiful statue.

At his nod, Max replaced the sheet over her face.

"Have you had any inquiries about her?"

"No one other than several police agencies, no." answered the medical examiner.

"So, after all this time, no one has come forward?" asked Steve, brow knitted as he gazed back at the little M.E.

"The Canadian authorities have searched for relatives but it seems there are none." said Max sounding apologetic that no one had come forward to claim the woman who'd occupied a drawer in his morgue for nearly three weeks.

"Let me know if someone does ask that her body be released to them."

"Of course . . . Steve." answered Max to the man who'd improved enough to travel here to view the body of a woman rumored to be a former lover. Two weeks ago, the commander had looked nearly as lifeless. Not knowing whether the words were appropriate or not, Max decided to say them anyway.

"I'm sorry for your loss." softly said the M.E.

The commander nodded silently then turned to walk out of the room.

…...

The waves are unusually high today. They collide violently with the wood pilings beneath him; churning themselves into foam before receding to do it again. The feeling of their impact pounded upward through the timbers into his legs then vibrated through his entire body. Never diminishing nor changing, the Pacific asserted its power as it had when he'd been here several months ago. Only the people on its shores had changed. Looking out at the roiling water, he could hear gulls shriek overhead; their calls part of the sea's unending symphony.

Danny had flown with him to San Diego but now sat waiting at the food court; saying that a hot cup of coffee is far better than freezing his ass off at the end of a pier. It's barely dawn and the air hasn't yet warmed to its usual mild winter temperature. It's best to do this early before visitors to the pier or inhabitants of its rental cottages can witness an illegal act. What he's doing is against the law this close to shore.

'Nothing is illegal if they don't catch you.' a defiant suspect had once told him while being questioned in the blue room. He smiled at the thought. She'd probably get a kick out of this, her last act of defiance.

Taking a deep breath of salt infused air, he twisted open the top of the small metal canister. Hesitating only briefly, he upturned the container and poured its powdery contents onto the rolling waves. Some of the finer powder drifted back toward the pier before being caught up by the wind and taken out to sea.

"Aloha, Angelique." he whispered.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

 **The quote about 'nothing being illegal if you're not caught' is from the movie 'A Face in the Crowd'.** **The line about bluffing in a card game was stolen from the internet somewhere. Thank you to whoever said it.**

 **Note: Though I hope it's not to be the case, after Cujo V is complete, Gone2Far may have written her last. RL has been a harsh mistress, (and a total bitch), lately. In good conscience, I can't start a story if, due to lack of time and solitude, I may not be able to finish it. In any event, The Squirrel Express has been a helluva fun ride with you guys. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.**


End file.
